Another Time
by Aeryn Alexander
Summary: Grindelwald is running amuck in war torn continental Europe. Minerva McGonagall is learning lessons in courage from her favorite professor. And Professor Dumbledore is caught between doing what is right and what is easy. Everyone makes choices. How will t
1. December 12th, 1944

Chapter One  
  
December 12th, 1944  
  
  
  
It was the last day before the holidays were to begin, and the Great Hall looked especially splendid, decked out fantastically for the coming Yuletide. At the noisy Gryffindor table smiling and raven-hared sixth year Minerva McGonagall twisted around in her seat to swap holiday plans with her friends Agatha Sprout, who was a fourth year Hufflepuff, and with Poppy Pomfrey, a third year Gryffindor. Daniel Vector, another sixth year Gryffindor, leaned across the table to hear.  
  
"I'm hoping to see my younger brothers again." laughed Poppy. "They start next year. Linus is going to be sorted into Gryffindor for sure, but Linden might just be in Hufflepuff like mum was." she said, nodding to Agatha as she spoke.  
  
"And I can't wait to spend the holidays with my family for a change! It's going to be wonderful." chuckled Agatha. Her eyes lit up at the very thought. "What about you, Minerva?"  
  
Minerva gave a wry smile and answered, "I'm staying here, like always, but I don't mind. My parents are Aurors and they have responsibilities ..."  
  
"Now, Minerva, you don't have to make their excuses." chided Daniel.  
  
"But with the war on the continent and ..."  
  
"It's _their _affair, not ours, not anymore than that muggle war is our concern." he told her reprovingly.  
  
"Speak for yourself!" said Poppy. "I have an uncle in the RAF."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"They say that war is almost over." said Agatha, holding up a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ for them to see.  
  
"The muggle war, you mean?" questioned Minerva.  
  
"Certainly not the wizarding one." Vector scoffed, reaching for the newspaper.  
  
"They say that wizarding Europe has nearly been laid waste ..." said Poppy quietly.  
  
"Grindelwald." Agatha sighed bitterly.   
  
Her friends shuddered and all glanced toward the Slytherin table where several young men and women were gathered over a newspaper of their own, reading with apparent glee and relish, pointing to the pictures and talking rather animatedly. It could not be more obvious what side they were on, despite England's neutrality in the wizarding affairs of Europe. Their parents were allies with or at least approved of the Dark Wizard Grindelwald.  
  
"It's bad luck to say his name." muttered Daniel as he read.  
  
"If you ask me, something should be done." said Minerva, looking at the horrible headline: _Countless wizards and witches slain by Grindelwald and his followers in Germany, France, and Poland_.   
  
There were pictures of the corpses on the snowy ground. French Aurors and English volunteers were sorting out the mess. She squinted, looking at the face of one of the volunteers. Minerva gasped sharply when she realized that it was their transfigurations' professor, Albus Dumbledore. She glanced from the picture where the man was standing in the snow, covering his eyes with one hand, to the head table where Dumbledore sat at the right hand of Headmaster Dippet. He looked quite sad and perhaps tired too. While his colleagues obviously considered the massacres on the continent none of their affair, Dumbledore took a different opinion.  
  
She could hear snatches of the two professors' conversation even above the chatter around her.  
  
"Still playing at being a mediwizard in France, Albus?"  
  
"Hardly a mediwizard. Everyone I've seen has been dead."  
  
"Mortician then?" questioned the young professor at Dippet's other elbow: Reynard Krohn, potions' master and the head of Slytherin house. He was a sullen looking man with blond hair that fell over his face, obscuring his hawk-like hazel eyes. There was a twisted sort of grimace on his face.  
  
Minerva saw Professor Dumbledore's eyes flash at the tactless barb.  
  
"I think of myself only as a volunteer and do what I can for those people ..." said the auburn-and-gray-hared professor, his voice growing so low that Minerva could not catch his words, which drew a dry, coughing laugh from Krohn and a rather ugly smirk from Dippet.  
  
"Try not to get too involved. Those people will most likely be dead in a year." advised Dippet, patting Dumbledore's arm in a paternal manner. The headmaster was aged and considered anyone under one hundred and twenty-five a mere child, though he unfortunately accorded rather callow Professor Krohn an unusual amount of respect.  
  
"Armando, if the Ministry holds with that attitude, no doubt they will be." he answered.  
  
"I should be making my announcement soon, about the muggle war and so forth." said Dippet, perhaps choosing to ignore his colleague.  
  
"I still think the muggle world is heading toward annihilation." said Krohn, who had imparted the opinion repeatedly to his muggle-born students and with a smile as though he was only telling them about a possible snowstorm or the results of a Quidditch match. He cared nothing for muggles or the things of their world.  
  
"Then they will take us with them." said Dumbledore. "Our communities may often be separate, but our destinies are not."  
  
Krohn merely looked at him with vague superiority and said, "But my family is pureblooded, Albus. We have no need of muggle breeding stock."  
  
"That's right. Your father married his first cousin, didn't he, Reynard?" asked Dumbledore.  
  
Krohn stiffened and threw his napkin down upon his plate before rising and leaving the table with an angry look upon his normally impassive face. Dumbledore disguised a chuckle with a cough.  
  
"You really shouldn't have said that, Albus. The boy is terribly sensitive about his parentage, and his family in general ..." said Dippet. "Now for that announcement."  
  
The headmaster rose from his seat and called for the attention of the students, who were nearly finished with their breakfasts. Minerva and Agatha, both of whom had been attending to the conversation at the head table while Poppy and Daniel sniped at each other over the newspaper, exchanged nervous glances. If Dippet had an announcement, then it could not be good. They had had precious little good news during their years at the school.  
  
"Despite our earlier intentions to see all the students who wish to do so go back to their homes for the holidays this year, the faculty has decided that it is too risky for those dwelling near urban areas or in the southern portion of England to return to their homes. Arrangements have been made for the effected students to remain at Hogwarts for the holiday season, where, with any luck we shall all have a very merry Christmas." said Dippet.  
  
Groans went up from all the tables. Minerva patted Poppy's shoulder comfortingly. She was actually crying, but she had good reason. She had only seen her brothers twice in almost three years because the school had remained open for the summer too because of the bombings and threat of invasion. It was the only place that parents felt their children would be safe. Agatha was pale with anguish. The light had left her eyes. Even Daniel seemed mournful as he folded up the newspaper and slumped his shoulders.  
  
"At least we'll all be together for the holidays." Minerva told them quietly.  
  
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	2. Later that same day

Chapter Two  
  
Later that same day  
  
  
  
Minerva could not help but to notice that Professor Dumbledore seemed more distracted than usual in class that day. It was the final day of lessons before the holidays began, so no one else seemed aware of the fact, even when the professor could not recall what he had just transfigured into a raven. It had been a black top hat, Minerva reminded him. She was, of course, one of his most promising students. She was also more than halfway through her Animagus training. Dumbledore thanked her and turned the bird back into a hat.  
  
Minerva tried not to blush, but it was so difficult when dealing with that particular professor. He made her stomach flip-flop and her heart race. It was so silly! He was old enough to be her father, several times over, no matter how young or attractive he looked. And Dumbledore was her professor too! It wasn't as though he were young, arrogant Professor Krohn, who stole kisses from pretty Slytherin girls at every turn. Albus Dumbledore was respectable! And so very kind. And compassionate. And strong. And handsome ...  
  
"Miss McGonagall? Minerva? Are you quite all right?" questioned the professor.  
  
She blushed a magnificent crimson as she realized that class had been dismissed and she was still sitting there, staring dreamily at her transfigurations' professor.  
  
"Yes, professor. I'm so sorry." Minerva stammered.  
  
He chuckled softly and sat down at a chair near hers and said, "I can hardly fault you, Miss McGonagall. I find my mind wandering quite a bit these days too."  
  
"The war?" she questioned.  
  
"Yes." he affirmed.  
  
"I saw your picture in the newspaper." she stated.  
  
"Did you now? The headmaster will not be pleased."  
  
"I think ... well, I think that it's very brave and noble of you." said Minerva, summoning all of her courage.  
  
"I just want them to know that they haven't been forgotten by all of us over here, that some of us are concerned and aware of their struggles." said Dumbledore. "But it is very kind of you to say so. I am gratified to hear that I am at least setting an example for my students."  
  
"You are." she assured him. Then she faltered slightly as she said, "But, professor, we don't really know what is happening exactly on the continent."  
  
"Of course not. Very few people do, even if they read the paper." nodded Dumbledore sadly. "The Ministry doesn't want to frighten people. I can understand that, to a point, of course, but this crisis won't resolve itself, and our brothers in Europe need our assistance to rid themselves of this accursed Dark Wizard and his minions."  
  
"So you won't tell me?"  
  
"No, Minerva, it would be too terrible for you to hear. I can only say that there are far fewer muggle-born and mixed-blood witches and wizards than there were a few years ago." he answered.  
  
"Killed?"  
  
"Yes, and tortured as well. I have seen the evidence of both myself." he said, sighing softly and rubbing his eyes under his spectacles.  
  
"I'm sorry, professor."  
  
"So am I. And I will continue to do what I can until the Ministry decides to act ... whenever that might be."  
  
"Can I do anything to help, professor?" she asked.  
  
Dumbledore smiled at her, knowing the great heart that was in Minerva McGonagall, no matter how she tried to hide it from her peers, whose lives had been more sheltered and who were not so willing to shoulder burdens as she. The pureblooded students especially seemed to distance themselves from the unpleasantness in the continental wizarding world, not to mention the muggle war and its tragic effects on the non-wizard population of Europe.  
  
"If the war lasts much longer and Grindelwald continues to prevail, you may be asked to do many things, Miss McGonagall, but not today. At present you are still too young and in need of training. And I believe you have more lessons this afternoon." he told her gently.  
  
  
Minerva was late when she slipped into a seat at the back of the potions' classroom where Professor Krohn was teaching. He sneered at her and summarily deducted ten points from Gryffindor house. Nothing new there. He had hated the scarlet and gold for as long as either teacher or student had been at Hogwarts, and she imagined that he would continue hating Gryffindor house long after she had graduated and gone into the Ministry and become an Auror like her parents. And every Slytherin head of house after him would no doubt continue the lovely tradition that dated back to the Founders with no end in sight.  
  
She sighed softly as Krohn continued his lesson on poisons without missing a beat.  
  
"What a nauseating topic!" she thought to herself, taking notes and occasionally glancing at Trudy Weasley and Daniel Vector, who were secretly passing notes under the table.  
  
Krohn turned and Daniel lobbed a note in her direction. Trudy smiled behind her hand as Minerva fumbled for the balled up piece of parchment, just managing to catch it. Throwing and catching things was all well and good for two of Gryffindor's prized chasers, but Minerva was all thumbs.  
  
She glared and pursed her lips at them and unfolded the parchment to read it.  
  
"_You must have had quite a conversation with Dumbledore after class. You simply must tell us all about it! Was it about that Dark Wizard_ - they refused to write Grindelwald's name - _and the war and everything? We're both dying to hear about what he does over there!_"  
  
"Miss McGonagall, kindly hand that over." said Professor Krohn practically in her ear. His long strides could cover the classroom front to back in three seconds flat, and silently, which was a thousand times worse.  
  
Minerva gulped and placed the note in his hands. Thankfully Trudy and Daniel had not signed it. At least she would be the only one in trouble.  
  
"Let me see ..." said Krohn, skimming the note. "Shall I read this to the class or not?" he mused, returning to his desk.  
  
"We'd love to hear it, professor." said Hadrian Malfoy with a smirk as he turned to look at Minerva. How she hated having potions with the Slytherins! It was insufferable!  
  
"Well, I suppose you all deserve to know why Miss McGonagall was late for class." said Krohn before reading the note aloud.   
Minerva could feel her cheeks turning a rosy color as he read. More than anything she was afraid that the Slytherins would somehow figure out that she fancied her transfigurations' professor.  
  
"So you want to know what he does over there, do you?" asked Krohn with quiet menace in his voice. He wasn't just looking at her or asking her. He was looking at all the Gryffindors in his class. "Well, do you?"  
  
No one answered him. They were brave, after the fine tradition of their house, but they were not stupid.  
  
Malfoy and some of the others snickered derisively at their silence.  
  
"He helps them collect the bodies and identify them, or what's left of them anyway. He sends for the family of the dead, if there is anyone left. He's no hero nor a soldier. He isn't even certified to be an Auror." Krohn told them.  
  
The Gryffindors shifted uncomfortably in their seats, but refused to meet his sneer nor the eyes that sparkled angrily from behind his blond veil of hair.  
  
"Nothing over there concerns you. Any of you. You think it's a shame. You think it's so terrible. Well, it is, but nothing can be done. No one can defeat Grindelwald. Half of wizarding Europe has died trying. Oh, and it's getting worse," he said, his gaze flashing toward his own students, who looked a bit too smug, "because they say that Grindelwald has gone mad."  
  
It was the Slytherins' turn to look uncomfortable. A few of them flushed with either suppressed rage or embarrassment depending upon how committed they were to the ideals their parents had passed onto them concerning Grindelwald, his 'cause', and purity of blood.  
  
"Oh, yes, he is quite mad they say. He's killing everyone now. Purebloods of good families who do not bend quickly enough to his will. Even those who do are not safe from his madness, his insanity." spat Krohn. "But nothing can be done! We can only hope and pray that his attention is not turned toward wizarding England, that he is content with his sway upon the continent, because we could never hope to fight him and those most devoted to his cause. They are too many and too strong."  
  
Minerva shivered as she struggled to her feet and said, "Then we are to wait as lambs for the slaughter, professor?"  
  
She could see Krohn tremble with rage as he turned toward her. His hair flew away from his face, revealing eyes that looked half-maddened with some strange emotion, not quite anger, but not quite fear. Regret? Agony? Grief? Minerva guessed wildly as he took the aisle between the Slytherins and Gryffindors in four long strides. She gripped the edge of the table where she stood, but did not back down.  
  
"What can you know of it, you silly, stupid, sanctimonious girl! What the hell can you possibly even _think_ that you know? My own family was ..." he began, bellowing at the top of his lungs.  
  
Then, seeming to choke on the words, he stopped suddenly and let his hair fall over his eyes again. He was breathing hard. It was a terrible sound to hear, but Minerva could feel his breath upon her face as he loomed over her. She was also aware that several of her house mates had leapt to their feet, ready to defend her. She could not see it, but even a few Slytherins had left their chairs, terrified by the sudden outburst by their often reserved head of house.  
  
Krohn put a hand on her shoulder to steady himself, but withdrew it quickly. Minerva looked up and into his eyes, which only she could see. There were bright, unshed tears in them.  
  
"Get out of here, you foolish girl, and do not dare to trouble me again." he rasped, turning on his heel and retreating to his desk.  
  
He stood there with his back to the class as Minerva gathered her things in great haste and left the classroom.  
  
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A/N: I don't think I have any particular notes for this chapter.  
  
  
Arwen Sol: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Inca: I was kind of hesitant when I started writing this because of my very American views of the past (well, it's where I was born and educated - what can I do?). I am desperately hoping to get through the story without offending anyone. That's my only hope. Thank you for the review!  
  
Serenity Raye: Thanks for the compliment about the characters. I worry that Krohn is too Snape-like (probably not without reason). Thanks for reviewing!  
  
LadySnape: I'm glad you like it (and "Another World"). Thanks for the review!  
  
MK: Thanks!  
  
Michelle: I have never read a Minerva/Tom story. I think it's because I went out with a Tom-like guy in high school *shudders* and wouldn't wish that on anyone, much less Minerva (too much info). Would that be PtQ Riley? That might make it worth checking out. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
  



	3. Later that same afternoon

Chapter Three  
  
Later that same afternoon  
  
  
  
Minerva, having left the dungeons in a hurry after being forcefully dismissed by her potions' professor, did not linger in the halls, but made her way speedily to her dormitory in Gryffindor Tower. It was empty, of course, as the rest of her year had remained with Professor Krohn, and she did not envy them for it, not by any means. She had rarely seen Krohn lose his temper. He was considered by many to be a cold and calculating man, accustomed to having his own way and manipulating people and situations to get it. And on some level Minerva truly regretted provoking him, especially on a topic so emotional as Grindelwald.  
  
"But he was asking for it." she told herself. "He could have ... What? Avoided the issue? Not very likely. Not him."  
  
His words came back to her: "My own family ..."  
  
She shuddered and wondered what those words had meant. Had they been killed by Grindelwald? Krohn had come to the school from the Akademie der Zauberei at the start of her first year at Hogwarts, just before the rise of Grindelwald and the beginning of the muggle war. The two events often presented an odd parallel. It seemed that he had departed from his native land in a very timely manner, unless, of course, he was escaping, which seemed unlikely not because of his character, but because the world had been at peace, or close to it, until after the start of the school year.  
  
A knock at the door roused Minerva from her musings. It was still a bit early for anyone else to be returning from class, unless her friends had chosen to come after her.  
  
"Yes?" she called, leaving her bed.  
  
The door creaked open to reveal Professor Dumbledore. He looked vaguely concerned.  
  
"Professor Krohn informed me that there was a bit of a confrontation between the two of you during his potions' class." he stated. "He wanted me to look in on you and to apologize on his behalf if you were upset."  
  
"I'm fine." said Minerva stiffly. She longed to add, "And if he wants to apologize, then he can do it himself." But she didn't want Dumbledore to think her petty or childish.  
  
Dumbledore looked over his glasses at her. She looked away quickly.  
  
"For someone so young he can be quite formidable if properly provoked. But you must understand something about him. He is under a terrific amount of strain and desperately trying not to let it show."  
  
"He mentioned ..." Minerva began. She stopped and shook her head, uncertain as to whether her professor would answer the questions she had.  
  
"Yes?" Dumbledore prompted, putting a hand on her shoulder. She was trembling, and it surprised him. He drew her closer as her face scrunched up as though she were holding back tears. Minerva was a very tender-hearted girl, and no matter what front she put on to hide it, Dumbledore could always tell.  
  
"He mentioned something about his family, professor. Were they ...?"  
  
Dumbledore could not hide his surprise. Krohn's family, two older brothers and a younger sister, had been murdered by Grindelwald nearly three months earlier. His parents, Dumbledore knew, were hiding out somewhere in Eastern Europe, possibly at Durmstrang, where Krohn's father had been a professor. Three dead and two in hiding. It was common knowledge among the staff, but Krohn had never spoken of the matter, remaining impassive and aloof whenever the topic was skirted by other faculty members. Many of them had lost friends who worked for foreign ministries and bureaus, but Krohn, the greatest opponent of involvement and the only staff member to have lost family, said nothing and rebuffed all attempts to give him consolation or sympathy until they were no longer made.  
  
But Minerva had managed to strike a chord so deep that it brought his loss to the surface. Dumbledore was eager to know what had been said in the classroom, so much so that he considered questioning Daniel Vector, one of the Gryffindor prefects, who had been already been called out of class to inform him of the incident in class inasmuch as it had involved Minerva.  
  
"Reynard hasn't told us anything himself, but many of the staff are allowed to read the reports and so forth that come in from the Ministry on a weekly basis. His parents are on the run from Grindelwald, though no one is certain exactly why as it was rumored that they were among his supporters for some time. We all have our own ideas, of course, but nothing substantial."  
  
"Then they aren't dead?"  
  
"Not yet, but his siblings are another matter. They were supposedly ardent supporters of the Dark Wizard and yet all three were murdered only a few months ago, presumably by Grindelwald himself."  
  
Minerva gasped sharply and her eyes widened. She understood her professor's helpless rage now, for though she had no brothers or sisters herself, Minerva knew how much Poppy and Daniel loved their own siblings and could only imagine how they would feel if something happened to them.  
  
But, she realized, her fellow Gryffindors would never sit idly by and allow the murderer to go free and continue killing with impunity. How was it then that Krohn was still so opposed to fighting Grindelwald? Was it cowardice?  
  
"Why doesn't he do something about it? Why doesn't he fight?" she questioned.  
  
"The cause to him seems too hopeless, I think. His own helplessness and grief have paralyzed him. You see, at first he believed that Grindelwald would be destroyed by the great witches and wizards with whom he had trained or that Grindelwald's own followers would see the light and turn upon their master. When that did not happen ..."  
  
"He gave up?"  
  
"Precisely. And it is a shame. You see, Professor Krohn is a powerful wizard, or would be at any rate, and the best potions' master that Hogwarts has had in almost a century. He would be a very useful ally for those of us willing to involve ourselves in the war."  
  
"Perhaps in time." said Minerva.  
  
"Yes." Dumbledore agreed. "Though there is precious little of that left."  
  
"Professor, it is so difficult to find out the truth about these things. Would you consider perhaps telling me more of what is going on over there? I know I'm young, but I want to know."  
  
"I will consider it, Minerva. It could be for the best perhaps if your generation is more informed about this situation. I am going to France again tonight, but I won't be returning until Christmas. When I do return, we will talk again." he promised her.  
  
"Do be careful, professor." she cautioned, looking up into his twinkling blue eyes.  
  
"I will take the utmost care, I assure you. I have no intention of being added to Grindelwald's growing list of victims." he said as he turned to go.  
  
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A/N: Urg! I meant for this chapter to be longer. I will try to update more often. (I'm applying to grad school *twitches* and have been busy.)  
  
  
Inca: I took a number of German language and history classes in school, and a few of the professors were a bit touchy about things from this era. Perhaps they have made me somewhat cautious. But I do agree with you about Hitler. Very scary. Thank you very much for reviewing!  
  
Sasha: And Minerva fics are so hard to find! Thanks for the review!  
  
MK: You were right. Not that I'm trying to drum up sympathy for him or anything. Thank you for the review!  
  
Sanguine Quill: I prefer writing stronger than average female characters (it's the feminist in me struggling to get out). Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Isis Malfoy: Well, "Another World" does kind of give away a few points here and there, but believe me this story has some surprises in store. I hope. Unless I'm really transparent. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
  



	4. December 25th, 1944

Chapter Four  
  
December 25th, 1944  
  
  
  
The holidays were passing swiftly for the students at Hogwarts. Only a handful had been allowed to return to their homes, and these were mostly Slytherin upperclassmen whose parents lived in secluded manors in the North of England, Scotland, and Ireland. Of course, this only made the holidays happier for those who had to stay behind, especially the Gryffindors.  
  
The castle was decorated with unsurpassing festiveness to take the students' minds off their exile. Hogwarts had never looked so wonderful. The staff had struggled to out do themselves each year since the war and the bombings had begun, especially Professor Flitwick, the middle-aged charms' professor, who decorated everything in sight with charmed lights and floating candles. There were Christmas trees by the dozen in the hallways and in the dormitories, and the scent of fresh pine and cedar pervaded the corridors.  
  
As Minerva sat with her friends at the special feast that evening, she looked at her Christmas gifts and sighed softly. Her parents had sent her new robes and a pair of boots. Practical gifts, as always. The robes were a shameful Slytherin green. She wondered if her mother even remembered what house she had been sorted into. Her friends on the other hand had given her candy bought during their last trip to Hogsmeade, which was the better present by far.  
  
Her friends had in return received Quidditch things from her: equipment for the players and fan gear for everyone else. Minerva had two passions: Quidditch and transfigurations. And most of her friends completely shared her interest in the first one. Vector was grinning as he rifled through his broom care kit and Weasley was tossing her new practice Quaffle in the air with an impish look, obviously waiting to use it to nail any Slytherin who ventured too close. It would be put to more practical uses during the team's next practice.  
  
But the one thing Minerva had wanted for Christmas, she had yet to receive. She had wanted to see Albus Dumbledore again and remind him of his promise, but his chair at the head table was empty, as it had been at both breakfast and lunch time. He had yet to return from France.  
  
Professor Krohn was seated at far end of the head table, choosing not to participate fully in the festivities, though she had heard that the single largest Christmas tree in the castle was in the Slytherin common room. He had rarely been seen outside the dungeons since the beginning of the holidays, which was more than a little unusual. The professor normally spent this time of year with the rest of the staff and students, impassively tolerating the feast and gift exchange and drinking eggnog with everyone else and occasionally doting upon some of his favorite students from his own house. This year was different. And Minerva McGonagall knew why.  
  
Delivery owls were still swooping in and out of the hall, as they had been all day long, coming from the far reaches of Britain and from places more remote, but none winged their way to the blond professor sitting apart from his colleagues. Minerva realized that even during the war and even though they had supported Grindelwald where their brother had not, Krohn's family still remembered him during the holiday season. Just the year before she had seen him smile and hold aloft a magical cuckoo clock sent to him as a holiday gift. There would be no such presents this year, Minerva knew.  
  
Then something surprising happened. Three dark gray owls swept into the Great Hall carrying three rather large packages. Minerva followed their descent and realized that they were flying toward the head table and Professor Krohn. The magnificent birds deposited their burdens before him and flew from the hall at full speed, their errand done.  
  
Krohn could not hide the amazement on his face as he reached toward a tag that accompanied one of the beautifully wrapped gifts. He pushed his hair behind his ears to reveal a look of puzzlement and perhaps even confusion. Somewhere in the Great Hall, a few students were singing a rousing rendition of _Deck the Halls_, drowning out the sound that Krohn's chair made against the floor as he clambered to his feet almost eagerly. All the eyes at the head table were upon him as he began unwrapping the first of the gifts.  
  
He tore away the paper and lifted the lid of the box. Minerva followed his eyes as he leaned over and peered inside. A look of horror and revulsion swept across his features as he stumbled backward, sending his chair to the floor with a crash. Even above the singing, his strangled cry could be heard as he swayed dizzily and turned a pale and sickly color. The professor put his hand over his mouth and fled the hall as students turned in their seats, craning their necks curiously to watch Professor Krohn run.  
  
Minerva left her seat and watched him dash from the hall, glancing toward the head table where Dippet and Binns were coming to their feet with curious and worried expressions on their faces. She looked toward the doors of the Great Hall. No one had followed Krohn. None of his few remaining students seemed particularly concerned. Most had gone back to their gifts, their food, and their games of Exploding Snap. Agatha, who had joined her friends at the Gryffindor table, looked concerned as did Poppy, though they were also both looking up at her.  
  
"Someone really ought to see about him ..." Minerva thought, shaking her head. "I suppose no one else has the nerve." she decided, leaving the table and making her way out of the Great Hall quickly and quietly.  
  
  
When Minerva left the noisy chatter of the hall, she followed the sound of retreating footsteps, which were apparently heading toward the dungeons. She turned a corner and stopped short. Krohn was standing at a window mid way down the long corridor and gripping the sill with one hand and keeping the other over his mouth. His head was bowed, and she could see him shaking terribly. She was afraid that he was going to be sick.  
  
"Professor, do you require any assistance?" she called, stepping toward him quite hesitantly.  
  
His head jerked up, and he turned toward her. The blond hair clinging to his face was damp with tears. Minerva half expected him to go for his wand or to scream at her. She braced for either eventuality.  
  
"No, Miss McGonagall, I do not. Please ... return to the Great Hall where you belong." he said in a high and thin voice that was nothing like his own. It was the voice of a man so frightened that he could hardly breathe.  
  
"Are you certain, professor?" she questioned.  
  
"I just need a moment." he said shakily.  
  
Minerva nodded and turned to go, but as she did so, the professor's knees gave way and he crumpled to the floor with a barely suppressed cry of rage and despair. Minerva was at his side instantly, holding back his hair as he retched loudly and violently. His face was ghostly pale.  
  
"Perhaps you should go see Madam Plummer, professor." Minerva suggested gently, recommending a visit to the hospital wing and trying not to sound as disgusted as she felt.  
  
"I just need to get to my rooms. I have something I can take there for the nausea." said Krohn, struggling to his feet with some help from McGonagall. Something in his eyes just wasn't right.  
  
"Please ..." Minerva began.  
  
Then sound of several people approaching caused Minerva to fall silent. It was the headmaster and Professor Binns, both of whom looked dreadfully pale and anxious.  
  
"Reynard! My God! Who would do such a thing?" questioned Dippet as elderly Professor Binns steering Minerva out of the headmaster's way.  
  
"Grindelwald." said Krohn flatly, leaning against the wall as Dippet awkwardly tried to put a comforting arm around him.  
  
"Did ... did you recognize them, Reynard?" Binns questioned.  
  
Minerva furrowed her brow as she listened.  
  
"They were Liesel's, my sister's. I recognized the ring on one of them." he choked. "I can guess what was in the other boxes." he said, putting his hand over his mouth again.  
  
"In all my years ... I've never even conceived ... that someone would do such a thing ..." said Dippet, shaking his head sadly. He looked ill as well.  
  
It required some moments for Minerva to understand what they were talking about. When realization hit her, it was like a blow to the stomach. She gasped aloud as nausea and revulsion swept over her. Grindelwald had sent Professor Krohn the hands of his three dead siblings, wrapped as Christmas gifts.  
  
"Take Miss McGonagall back to the hall, would you, Binns? She has heard quite enough, I believe." said Dippet sternly.  
  
Minerva looked at Professor Krohn. She could see his eyes, and they were still bleary and deeply haunted, though she could finally understand why. Binns caught her by the elbow and started to tug her rather feebly away.  
  
"Professor ... I'm so sorry." she told Krohn.  
  
The young potions' master nodded silently and closed his eyes.  
  
"He's needs help and can't ask for it." Minerva thought as she walked with Professor Binns back toward the Great Hall and the feast.  
  
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A/N: I hope that wasn't a total gross-out. There was a reason for it (establishing the evilness of Grindelwald and making the war less removed and faraway, more personal). I'm not big on gratuitous violence and stuff (or I try not to be).   
  
  
MK: I'm an only child, so I have to use my imagination. Some people are born without the ability to look on the bright side (and are consequently almost always miserable to know. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Freelancer: Krohn becomes a little less Snape-like in later chapters, I think, but what can I say? Snape is the very model of a perfect potions' master (and my favorite character, even though I kind of know _my_ professor of potions - long and weird story). I appreciate the encouragement regarding school. Good luck with your academic pursuits. Thank you very much for the reviews!  
  
  



	5. Just a bit later

Chapter Five  
  
Just a bit later  
  
  
  
"Professor, may I go back to the Tower? I don't feel well." Minerva told Professor Binns quietly as they approached the entrance to the Great Hall.  
  
The old man looked at her sympathetically and said, "Certainly, Miss McGonagall, you've had a bit of a fright, I'm sure. Perhaps that would be for the best. I will ask one of your house's prefects to take you your things."  
  
"Thank you." she said with a slight smile before beginning the walk back to Gryffindor Tower.  
  
She certainly had not felt up to going back into the feast. The smell of the food alone would probably have made her sick after the very thought of Professor Krohn's macabre present. It was a horrendous thought. Why did Grindelwald wish to torture the professor like that? Wasn't it enough the he had murdered three people? Did he need to torture Krohn, a noncombatant, as well? The professor was not even a threat to Grindelwald!  
  
As Minerva made her way past the Entrance Hall, she glimpsed a figure moving through the shadows. Stopping in her tracks and watching the robed and hooded form making its way toward the stairs to the hospital wing, her curiosity was piqued. Who would be out at this time of the evening, especially during the feast? The figure, she guessed, was a man, and did not appear to have noticed her position at the beginning of the corridor that led to the Tower stairs. Too thin to be Ogg the Gamekeeper and too tall to be Mister Pringle the Caretaker. Who was it then?  
  
Minerva took a deep breath and chose to follow him. Strange things were afoot in the castle already. It was best to know what was going on instead of remaining ignorant, she decided, following at discrete distance.  
  
The person moved with slow and labored steps and kept a hand on the wall as he moved. There was something decidedly familiar about him. Minerva frowned as she caught a glimpse of dark blue robes beneath the heavy hooded cloak. She moved from shadow to shadow, hoping that he did not turn.  
  
"Minerva, a cat you may be in spirit, but since you are still in human form you would do well to remember that you are wearing heavy boots." said a familiar voice.  
  
Her breath caught in her throat, and she froze where she stood. The figure turned and threw back his hood to reveal Albus Dumbledore. He looked incredibly weary. There were signs of light bruising on the right side of his face.  
  
"Professor?" she questioned, finding her voice.  
  
"I said that I would be home for Christmas." he chuckled, beckoning her forward.  
  
"It slipped my mind." she admitted, wondering if she should tell him about the earlier incident. She shuddered involuntarily.  
  
"The holiday season can do that, I imagine." he said, looking over his spectacles at her. "I am on my way to visit Madam Plummer ..." Dumbledore began to say.  
  
"Are you hurt?" Minerva questioned quickly.  
  
"It isn't serious." he assured her.  
  
"Let me help you." she offered.  
  
Professor Dumbledore nodded gratefully and put an arm around her shoulders. A slight blush crept into her pale cheeks as she began helping him down the corridor. Being so close to him, especially after such a horrid evening, very nearly made her giddy. She glanced up almost shyly into his blue eyes. They seemed more sorrowful than usual, but his eyes were still, were always quite lovely.  
  
"Shouldn't you be in the Great Hall, enjoying the feast?"  
  
"I got permission to go back to the dormitories." she replied, noticing that Dumbledore was favoring his right foot and ankle. She tried to help him compensate.  
  
"Too much candy before mealtime? Of course, there really isn't any such thing as too much candy."  
  
Minerva took a deep breath and said, "No, there was an incident at the feast ..."  
  
"Ah, at last, we're getting somewhere." said Dumbledore with an approving nod. Minerva gave him a quizzical look in response. "Surely you didn't think that I was unaware that something was bothering my favorite student." he chuckled.  
  
"You shouldn't call me that. Favoritism and all." she muttered, turning a distinctly rosy color.  
  
"Very well." he agreed. "Now tell me what happened."  
  
"Professor Krohn ... received his siblings' severed hands ... in boxes ... tonight at the feast." she said, having trouble with the words.  
  
Dumbledore stopped in his tracks and looked at the floor. He had seldom appeared so astonished as he did at that moment. His grip on Minerva's shoulders tightened. They stood there for a moment in silence.  
  
"Did you see them?"  
  
"No." she whispered, shuddering and closing her eyes for a moment.  
  
"And the other students?"  
  
"They only saw the professor leave the Great Hall in a hurry. I imagine none of them saw or even know."  
  
"You shouldn't tell anyone else then." said Dumbledore.  
  
"I won't. It would only frighten them. There's no good in doing that."  
  
They began walking again, perhaps a little slower. It was obvious that the news was a burden to the professor. He had not needed to ask who had sent them. Dumbledore knew quite well who had done the deed.  
  
At the doors to the hospital wing, the professor paused and looked at the sad face of his escort. These days were supposed to be happy ones for his students, for all of the students and the staff, but the evil in the world outside their haven had intruded upon that in the worst sort of way.  
  
"How long will we be able to keep them safe? How long?" he wondered, lifting Minerva's chin. "Thank you, Minerva, for seeing me here safely. I had best see Madam Plummer alone as she will not be pleased with my recent conduct." he told her.  
  
"Yes, professor." she said, hesitating.  
  
"Minerva?"  
  
"Professor Krohn ... would you please make sure that he's all right? He was very sick earlier ..."  
  
"Of course." answered Dumbledore. "You know, perhaps you could ask Madam Plummer for something to give him. I imagine that a dreamless sleep potion might be in order. The password for his rooms ..."  
  
"Professor," she interrupted sternly, reading the expression on his face, "I hardly think that would be appropriate."   
  
Minerva had the impression that Dumbledore believed that she fancied the blond Slytherin head of house, and possibly vice versa, which was far from the truth. She had difficulty even tolerating the professor in ordinary circumstances, which these were certainly not. She only had eyes for one man and that was Professor Dumbledore. And she well imagined that Krohn could hardly stand the sight of her either, especially in light of recent events.  
  
"Of course. My apologies. I will pay Professor Krohn a visit before I retire for the evening." he assured her. Minerva could have sworn that his eyes twinkled with mild amusement for just a moment.  
  
"Thank you, professor." she nodded before turning and quickly walking back down the corridor.  
  
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A/N: I've got nothing.  
  
  
Inca: Yeah, definitely some horrible stuff. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Serenity Raye: I don't know who could put up with this guy's attitude. Minerva isn't on the Quidditch team, not because I can't see her as having been a Quidditch player, but because of one of my failings as a writer: I can't write good Quidditch games. Some people can. I cannot. I know I wouldn't be obligated to write a game if she were on the team, but it would be tough to get around. I think she would have been a good keeper. Thanks for the review!  
  
lilliana: Thank you very much for reviewing!  
  
Michelle: Er, Grindelwald, I'm assuming? Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Child-of-the-Dawn: Yeah ... a bit gross. Thank you for the review!  
  
MK: Coal would have been vastly preferable to hands in my opinion as well, especially considering how long they were dead. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
  



	6. December 26th, 1944

Chapter Six  
  
December 26th, 1944  
  
  
  
Minerva was curled up in a comfortable chair in the Gryffindor common room, reading an excellent book on Animagus transformations to supplement her extensive course work. This was the perfect way to spend the holidays in her opinion, though many of her friends, who were outdoors in the snow, building snowmen and having snowball fights, adamantly disagreed with her and rued Minerva's studious streak. This was especially true of Agatha Sprout and Trudy Weasley, who had plans to build an igloo near the lake, with some special magical assistance that they had hoped Minerva would provide.  
  
"Minerva, Professor Dumbledore wants to see you in his office." she heard Daniel Vector call from the portrait hole.  
  
She looked up from her book to see him brushing snow from his robes.  
  
"About what?" she questioned, marking her place and leaving her chair.  
  
"He didn't say." shrugged Vector.  
  
"All right then." she nodded, walking toward the portrait hole.  
  
"If he tells you anything about the war, you will tell the rest of us, right?" questioned Daniel as he paused at the stairs leading to his dormitory.  
  
"Curious, Daniel? I thought you were rather insistent that it isn't our concern." said Minerva before stepping through the portrait hole and making her way to Dumbledore's office.  
  
  
A house elf was just leaving a tray of tea and scones with the professor when he invited Minerva into the office, which was a cozy room that was very similar to the Gryffindor common room, only smaller and quieter. Minerva had a seat in a chair by the fire, her usual seat when she visited the office, which was quite frequently in recent years due to her extensive training in transfigurations. Dumbledore poured the drinks and joined her in a matching chair. He regarded her coolly as they began drinking their tea.  
  
"You look quite well this afternoon." Minerva commented, noticing that the bruises were gone and he no longer favored any of his limbs. Madam Plummer had certainly taken proper care of him.  
  
"And you look quite lovely in those new robes. They bring out the color in your eyes quite nicely. A Christmas gift, I presume?" he said.  
  
Minerva nearly choked on her tea to her host's lasting amusement.  
  
"Yes, from my parents." she managed weakly.  
  
"They have excellent taste." he chuckled.  
  
"Thank you, professor."  
  
"I suppose after last evening's excitement you must be a bit more reticent to hear about the situation on the continent." he said.  
  
"Actually, quite to the contrary. The war against Grindelwald is no longer just their situation, is it? One of my professors has been terrorized by the Dark Wizard. How much closer to home can this get?" questioned Minerva with a dry laugh.  
  
When Dumbledore looked at her, a fierce pride shone in his blue eyes. He had perhaps expected Minerva to hesitate. She was not made of stone or steel. The idea of what Grindelwald was capable of doing to even the least of opponents would have rattled every student he could think of, except perhaps the undauntable Tom Riddle of Slytherin house. But Minerva was still willing to learn more instead of hiding in ignorance as many witches and wizards were doing, especially those at the Ministry who counseled against involvement in the war against Grindelwald.  
  
"You are correct in your assertions. The conflict is beginning to affect more of us here than it did a year or two ago."  
  
"Then something will be done?"  
  
Dumbledore took a deep breath and answered, "I do not know for sure. The Ministry is made up of an indecisive group of people who remember the horrors of the last wizarding war all too vividly. But the time to strike is coming. Either it will be soon or never. They say that Grindelwald is ..."  
  
"Insane?"  
  
"He is going mad." Dumbledore nodded. "And who knows what he might order his followers to do, supposing that he does not kill them all himself in his madness."  
  
"You sound as though you pity them."  
  
"I do, but then, I've seen them, Minerva. Do you know how old some of them are?" he questioned.  
  
"Young?"  
  
"Fourteen. The French Aurors caught a fourteen-year-old casting killing curses just a few nights ago. Most are older, sixteen and seventeen, and there are seasoned wizards and witches who support him, but it is the young ones the cause the most pain, suffering, and havoc." answered Dumbledore.  
  
"That's why you don't want us, students, that is, involved." said Minerva, shivering as she pictured what some of the younger Slytherins could do if they went on a rampage.  
  
"In part." he nodded.  
  
"What else did you see in France, professor?"  
  
"Albus. You may call by my first name. If we are to speak of such things, I believe that I would greatly prefer it."  
  
"Very well."  
  
"The French Minister of Magic emptied Beauxbatons of students some months ago because its location had become known to the Dark Wizards. They would have attacked en masse and soon. He thought the students would stand a better chance with their families. As you can image, Grindelwald wasted no time in his search for those of mixed blood and muggle parentage." Dumbledore paused and let his words sink in.   
  
"I traveled across the country with groups of Aurors, most of whom have had too little training as there are few seasoned Aurors left in France these days. We went from village to village mostly among wizarding folk, making lists of those who had been killed and seeing that some semblance of order is being kept, that graves are being dug and marked. Because none of those children and none of their parents are left alive any longer. Grindelwald found every last muggle-born child in France who had succeeded in gaining entrance to Beauxbatons. Not nearly so many as we have here, but very many to die such horrible deaths."  
  
"But how did he find them?"  
  
"Grindelwald has many spies. Other children, purebloods raised with certain woefully incorrect ideas, who might have passed the information along. Their parents, of course. Or perhaps, and this I don't even like to consider, some of their own teachers.  
  
"There was a village near the border between France and Germany. The muggle war had passed through it sometime earlier, devastating the place, but the wizarding community in the village had been left largely intact thanks to some effort by a family of mixed blood. When we arrived, that family was dead, but all of their pureblooded neighbors had been spared. Someone in that village had to be working with Grindelwald, though we could not discover who, although one of the Aurors suspected a recently retired professor who lived in the village. It was the most unconscionable example of treachery I had ever seen." said Dumbledore, leaning forward in his chair and clasping his hands together. Minerva could see the anger in his eyes.  
  
"Was that where you were injured?" she inquired after a long moment of silence.  
  
He glanced up at her and shook his head.  
  
"Actually, that had little to do with the wizarding war. One of the Aurors stepped on a land mine. That's an exploding thing in the ground that muggle armies leave behind to slow down their enemies. I was about ten feet behind him. It was like a blasting curse. I landed hard on my ankle. But what it did to the Auror ..." he said, trailing off and shaking his head again.  
  
"Did you know him very well?"  
  
"Henri? No, I cannot say that I did. He was seventeen. He had quit Beauxbatons to become an Auror. That's almost everything I knew about the young man. Philip said that he had passed the certification tests with flying colors."  
  
"Albus, what are we going to do? I know you say that I'm too young to help you in anyway, but I feel like something must be done."  
  
"Don't be foolish, Minerva. Things are being done. I'm not the only one who goes over there to provide assistance, you know. There are English Aurors over there without permission and less qualified witches and wizards too. Mediwitches and wizards, Quidditch players, broom salesmen, and all manner of folk are taking an interest. People are slowly realizing that as you put it, 'something must be done'. The only problem is unity of purpose and effort, which the Ministry should provide for us and simply isn't." he explained. Then he smiled at her and added, "And you are, of course, doing something very important."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Listening, Minerva. I feel much stronger and more determined now than when you first came in this afternoon. And, therefore, when I return to the battlefields in a few days, I will be of more use to my fellow combatants, if I might count myself among their ranks." Albus told her, patting her knee as he stood.  
  
Minerva blushed at his words, which were wholly unexpected.  
  
"I'm glad to have been of some service." she managed.  
  
Albus laughed and said, "You have been of a great of service, Minerva. I don't know what I would do without you. Perhaps I would talk to myself or something." Then he grew somber as she left her seat. "And you were also of some help last night. He will never thank you, I dare say, but I will do so in his place. Thank you, Minerva, for assisting Professor Krohn. I am extremely grateful."  
  
Minerva looked at him and frowned as she asked, "He mentioned what happened outside the Great Hall?"  
  
"No." Albus replied simply. "I believe you should return to your studies now. I have some paperwork that I must catch up." he told her, leaving more than a few questions unanswered.  
  
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A/N: I'm not suggesting that a 14-year-old could do Avada Kedavra (unless no one has a problem with that; after all if a wizarding adolescent were schooled in the Dark Arts for years and years, why not?), but rather that there must be other killing curses (unless that violates canon, in which case ... tell me).  
  
  
Isis Malfoy: There's a little bit of fluffiness in almost any fan fiction. You just have look for it. I have trouble (when I write) keeping time linear, so I labeled the chapters that way as I was writing to help me out. I just left them like that when I was finished. I'm glad you liked them. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Child-of-the-Dawn: Thanks for the review!  
  
MK: I think I answered your question within the chapter. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
darkfire: Okay! Thank you for reviewing!  
  
  



	7. January 3rd, 1945

Chapter Seven  
  
January 3rd, 1945  
  
  
  
Three days before classes resumed, Minerva found herself escorting Daniel Vector from the Quidditch pitch with a separated shoulder, which he had gained from flying head first from his broom from about fifteen feet in the air. The remainder of the team, all good friends of Minerva's, had elected to stay and continue practicing. They would be playing Slytherin in a few weeks and needed all the practice that they could get. Trudy insisted that this would be the year that Gryffindor won.  
  
Vector, grumbling and holding his wounded shoulder, was expected to be back on the pitch as soon as Madam Plummer righted the injury, which was part of the reason the team sent Minerva with him. She was dead set on seeing Gryffindor win against Slytherin and would drag Daniel back bodily if necessary. He had muttered something about her being insane and obsessed, while he was lying on the ground after the fall, because she had suggested that they 'tape up' his arm and get him back on the broom.  
  
The school mediwitch was attending another patient at the rear of the ward when they entered the hospital wing.  
  
"Madam Plummer ..." said Vector in a loud and whining voice, "I fell off my broom again!" What satisfaction he got out of doing that only he would know.  
  
"One moment, Mister Vector." said Plummer, who was a rather petite and middle-aged witch with rosy cheeks and dark gleaming eyes.  
  
Minerva helped Daniel onto an empty bed so that he could sit comfortably while they waited and then wandered toward one of the windows. Outside, the wind was picking up. It was good practice weather, she decided, though it was incredibly cold, even with warming charms and so forth.  
  
She glanced over her shoulder at Madam Plummer, who was dashing over to examine Vector with her wand drawn. Minerva's eyes drifted toward the other patient in the ward and stifled a quiet gasp. It was the potions' professor! Minerva glanced at Plummer and Vector again, noting that the mediwitch was busy, before making her way toward the partially screened portion of the ward. Curiosity had gotten the better of her quite easily.  
  
She had not heard that the professor had taken ill, but then, he was unusually reclusive and everyone knew that he preferred the company of his Slytherins. It was entirely possible that no one other than his own students or the staff were aware of the fact either. And would the Slytherins allow anyone outside the house to know? Certainly not. Tom Riddle, who was Head Boy, was a very capable leader and often ensured within house solidarity on important matters and silence only even the trivial ones. Even Gryffindors knew those things.  
  
At first Minerva, as she stood next to his bedside, thought that Professor Krohn, who was ghostly pale, was sleeping. Then his heavy eyelids slowly lifted to reveal his tired and slightly vacant hazel eyes. Minerva started in surprise and stepped back. A smirking smile touched his almost colorless lips as he beckoned her closer. She obliged hesitantly.  
  
"Minerva, isn't it?" he asked in a low voice.  
  
"Yes, professor."  
  
"Albus said that you were responsible, that it was you who saved my life."  
  
"I don't know what you mean." stammered Minerva in confusion.  
  
Krohn rubbed his thumb across his fingertips and whispered, "The wrapping paper was tainted with poison. I would have been dead by morning."  
  
Minerva raised her eyebrows in astonishment. She had sent Professor Dumbledore to check on him for a different reason entirely. He had seemed almost mad with grief, for certainly he had been sick with it, and capable of almost anything. That was what had frightened her, certainly not the possibility of poison. She would have never even considered it. But it was just one more example of Grindelwald's devious and evil ways.   
  
It was fortunate that no one else came in contact with the paper, as Krohn had been poisoned by means of the obviously very potent toxic substance that was absorbed through his skin.  
  
"But my question is this: after missing so much of the lesson on such poisons because I threw you out of class, how did you realize what had happened to me? Call it professional curiosity." he said impassively.  
  
"I didn't." she replied.  
  
He regarded her curiously for a moment and gave a weak and unpleasant sort of laugh as he realized what her answer meant.  
  
"I seemed deranged to you then. Out of my mind, yes? You sent your head of house to make certain that I had not slit my wrists or something of that nature then?" Krohn questioned with a scowl.   
  
Owing his life to a pair of Gryffindors did not please him, but what was worse by far was that one of them thought him no more sensible, no stronger than a grief-stricken teenager. That made his blood boil with anger despite his weakened state.  
  
"I never told him that I thought you were crazy or had gone mad or anything like that. In fact I hardly told him anything at all." answered Minerva stiffly in her own defense.  
  
Krohn narrowed his eyes at her and said, "I thought perhaps you were doing extra potions' study and had learned something, but I should have known better. You are so very much the Gryffindor. Now get out of my sight, McGonagall, before I have Madam Plummer throw you out of the hospital wing."  
  
Minerva took a step back and felt her cheeks redden at his words. There should be some expectation that he behave in a more civilized manner. She wanted to say something. She would certainly have regretted it later, of course, but she had the strong, almost overwhelming desire to put Professor Krohn in his place.  
  
"Hey, Minerva, are you coming back to the pitch?" called Daniel Vector from the front of the ward. "My shoulder's as good as new!" he added.  
  
She turned to see him flapping his newly healed arm with a ridiculous grin on his face.  
  
"Of course, Daniel." she replied with a nod, striding away from Krohn's hospital bed without another word.  
  
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A/N: I meant to put this in the notes for the last chapter. The phrase 'something must be done' comes from the book "Deliver us fom Evil - Peacekeepers, Warlords and a World of Endless Conflict" by William Shawcross (it was a textbook for a class I took on the sociology of war and the military). Credit where credit is due.  
  
  
MK: I have the impression from GoF (and from the other books too) that the MoM suffers from severe bureaucratic inertia. And I imagine that it wasn't anything new. Only time will tell if it changes. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Michelle: *blushes* Thanks!  
  
And thanks to everyone who emailed or commented on the story at Albus & Minerva while this site was down!  
  
  
On a personal note, my apartment flooded on Saturday, so I had less time for editting and so forth than usual.  
  
  



	8. January 10th, 1945

Chapter Eight  
  
January 10th, 1945  
  
  
  
Minerva was reading a few pages ahead in her History of Magic textbook, having prepared for class sufficiently over the holidays, when she heard an audible gasp from Trudy Weasley in the desk front of her. Their elderly professor had been running a few minutes late, the class had imagined, giving the group of Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors time to chat or catch up on their other lessons. Minerva marked her place and glanced up to see that was the matter with Trudy.  
  
Miss Weasley's eyes were as wide as saucers, and she was not alone. Most of the class were staring at their professor with expressions that ranged from confusion to horror to simple disbelief. He had, though Minerva had missed the occurrence, floated into the classroom through the blackboard at the front of the room. Professor Binns was currently drifting about a foot above the ground and was preparing to lecture as usual, oblivious to the very disturbed students who were watching him with far greater attention and interest than he had ever managed to command while still alive.  
  
"He's a ghost!" Daniel hissed quietly to Trudy and Minerva.  
  
"Should someone be told?" questioned Miss Weasley.  
  
"Most definitely." said Minerva in a low voice, looking at Daniel, who was a prefect.  
  
"Most of the other professors will be in class. Who should we tell?" he questioned.  
  
"We? What's this about we?" whispered Minerva.  
  
"You're good at these things!" he said, leaving his seat and tugging at her elbow.  
  
They both glanced at ghostly Professor Binns, who was droning on about the Goblin Revolts in complete incognizance of his physical state or the lack thereof, and slipped quietly out of the classroom.  
  
"I'll go to the faculty lounge. Surely one of the professors will be there." said Minerva when they walked into the hallway.  
  
Daniel glanced back into the classroom and said, "Good thinking, Minerva. I'll go check Professor Flitwick's office and if he isn't there ..."  
  
"Go look for Professor Dumbledore." she recommended before hurrying down the hall.  
  
Minerva shook her head as she walked. Professor Binns was old, older than Headmaster Dippet or any of the other professors. He was no one's favorite teacher to be sure. The man could bore even the most academically and historically minded students nearly to death. But he had been kindly in his own peculiar way. Now he was a ghost.  
  
The door to the teacher's lounge was open, but she knocked nevertheless as she leaned inside.  
  
"Come in." called Professor Dumbledore.  
  
Minerva stepped hesitantly into the lounge.  
  
"You would think that he would have had the decency to wait to the end of the term or perhaps before the holidays." said a slightly strained and annoyed voice that belonged to Professor Krohn, who had just managed to resume his teaching duties.  
  
"You mustn't begrudge a man his last Christmas." admonished Dumbledore.  
  
"And why not? It's a damned inconvenience." snarled Krohn.  
  
"Language, Reynard! There is a lady present." said the transfigurations' professor, looking over his glasses at Krohn and nodding toward Minerva, who lingered in the doorway.  
  
The two professors were standing on either side of an armchair, and she had the strangest feeling that they were talking about Professor Binns, that they knew he was dead somehow. Krohn looked over his shoulder at Minerva with a sour expression.  
  
"What can we do for you, my dear?" questioned Dumbledore.  
  
"Professor Binns ..."  
  
"Ah, yes, you have his class this period, don't you? I'm afraid he won't be showing up today, Minerva." he said, glancing at the chair.  
  
She was suddenly aware that someone was sitting in it.  
  
"There's no use skating around the issue. Just tell her that he's dead." said Krohn, gesturing for her to take a look.  
  
"I know he's dead, professor." she told him, glimpsing one of her history professor's hands dangling over the arm of the chair.  
  
"Oh, really?" questioned Krohn.  
  
"His ghost is teaching my history class." she explained.  
  
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and said, "You don't say, Minerva? That is a spot of luck. It looks as though Dippet won't need to find a new instructor after all."  
  
"We still must take the body to the hospital wing, at least until arrangements can be made." said Krohn impatiently, pursing his lips as he drew his wand. "I can do it, if you wish, Albus." he added.  
  
"Thank you, Reynard, that would be most appreciated. I think I shall look in on his class and return Miss McGonagall to it." said Professor Dumbledore, stepping away from the chair and ushering her out of the staff room.  
  
Minerva could hear Krohn cast Mobilicorpus from the hallway as they began walking back to the classrooms. She glanced over her shoulder and frowned in surprise as Professor Krohn and the corpse of Binns as they left the lounge. Krohn was holding his wand in one hand, bearing the lifeless shell of the professor aloft, but his other hand rested carefully at the small of his dead colleague's back. Minerva paused and watched until they disappeared down a set of stairs at the end of the corridor.  
  
"Those two are ... were cut from the same cloth in many ways." commented Dumbledore, noticing the questioning look on Minerva's face. "They both saw the trees, not the forest, valuing details over larger matters. Possibly it was because of their work. Krohn with his carefully measured ingredients and Binns with his obscure names and dates. I believe that Reynard saw something of a grandfather in the old professor. Ghost or not, Reynard will miss that relationship after a fashion, though they did not always see eye to eye." he explained as they continued walking.  
  
"And you? How do you feel?"  
  
"I was concerned at first, but then, I remembered that to the well-organized mind ..."  
  
"Death is but the next great adventure." she said in unison with him, chucking as she recognized one of Dumbledore's favorite sayings. "In what way did the professors disagree?" Minerva questioned after a pause.  
  
"Binns, a very learned student and a master of history both wizarding and muggle, was much in favor of involving ourselves in the war against Grindelwald. The danger was more apparent to him that to Reynard. I hope that the headmaster still listens to his ghost or I may not be permitted to go to France again. Binns was and still is, I imagine, my greatest advocate." said Dumbledore with a soft chuckle as they reached the classroom.   
  
He peered inside and looked very much relieved and gratified to see the ghost of Professor Binns still teaching.  
  
"When will you be making your next trip?" she questioned quietly.  
  
"Soon." he said. "Ask me about it later this week, Minerva. Right now, you should return to your lessons."  
  
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A/N: Should I have included a character death warning? Binns was already dead in the books, so .... hmmm.  
  
  
Child-of-the-Dawn: It wasn't too bad. Luckily, the apartment slopes, so the water the didn't my computer. All potions' masters are unfailingly mean. *chortles* Well, if Krohn had been a DADA teacher, he couldn't very well be this cowardly (or bitter). It's also kind of a plot thing. I think most people write mean and sometimes even evil potions' masters/mistresses. It's a great cliche. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Freelancer: I like your version of Grindelwald so much better *sniffs*. Thank you very much for the review!  
  
Michelle: Yeah, water, water, everywhere. I think there are definitely some similarities between Snape and Krohn (but then Krohn would have been his head of house - I mentioned that in other stories). Perhaps Krohn is a little colder, more aloof. I haven't a clue really. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
  



	9. January 15th, 1945

Chapter Nine  
  
January 15th, 1945  
  
  
  
The school had adjusted with relative ease to having a ghost teaching their history class, though it was fair to say that little changed in respect to their history professor's style of teaching or subject matter. Once the novelty had worn off, the class was just as boring as ever, if not more so, as the dead are notoriously inattentive to the wishes or needs of the living.  
  
After classes ended for the week, Minerva began making her way through the crowded halls and back to the Tower when she was stopped by Vector who pressed a note into her hand.  
  
"Wants to see you about something ... again, I expect." he shrugged, nodding in the direction of Dumbledore's office. "Will you tell us more about the war on the continent this time too? Trudy and Poppy are eager to hear ..."  
  
"Say it, Daniel." said Minerva, unfolding the note and skimming it. Vector had been right: Dumbledore wanted to see her.  
  
"It is our concern." he sighed, rolling his eyes.  
  
"Very well." she nodded. "Take my books for me?" she asked with a smile.  
  
"Of course." Daniel agreed.  
  
"See you all at dinner then." she said before taking off down the corridor.  
  
  
Albus was sitting in his chair by the fire when she entered the office. There was no freshly prepared tea this time. He seemed deep in thought as she collapsed easily into the chair reserved for guests, and her especially. He smiled as he looked up and over his spectacles at Minerva.  
  
"Mister Vector is obviously an excellent courier. I imagined it would take him sometime to locate you." said Dumbledore.  
  
"Well, we do share a class schedule, you know." she pointed out.  
  
"Naturally." he nodded thoughtfully. "I wanted you to know that I am leaving for France this evening. I won't be coming back until sometime in mid February unless the situation over there alters greatly or I am needed elsewhere."  
  
Her throat tightened slightly. He would be absent for more than three or four weeks at the very least. That was practically a month! She could not immediately remember the last time she had gone so long without seeing him.  
  
"I see ..." she managed.  
  
"It seems that I owe something of a debt to Professor Krohn as he spoke out on my behalf at the last staff meeting. Or perhaps he considered himself to be repaying one. In either case Dippet was quite prepared to forbid me from going, despite the fact that Binns is still very much on my side, but Krohn managed to persuade him to do otherwise, though I can easily imagine that this extended visit may be my last as Dippet isn't about to truly change his mind unless the Ministry itself does."  
  
Minerva felt slightly numb as she asked him, "What will you be doing over there this time, Albus?"  
  
"More of the same, unfortunately." he replied with a soft sigh. "Philip was killed last Tuesday. They, the French Ministry of Magic, have offered to certify me as an Auror. It is tempting, though I should miss the school very much."  
  
"You would leave?"  
  
"I don't know, Minerva. I'm torn. I want to help them and at the same time I do not wish to abandon my students. It is a difficult thing. Perhaps I want too much."  
  
"But you want the right things."  
  
"Do I now?" he chuckled, looking at her very carefully with his twinkling blue eyes. "Who can say? But I think I will remain here a while longer and help out there when I can. Maybe when they locate his whereabouts ... Maybe then I will accept that commission ... And who knows?" he said mysteriously, shrugging.  
  
"You will be gone for some time."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I will try to put together a study group or something in your absence. With your permission, of course. So that we won't fall behind."  
  
"Of course, Minerva. That is a wonderful idea. And see that you continue working on your Animagus studies as well. I think you have reached the point where I no longer need to supervise you directly."  
  
"Thank you." she said quietly.  
  
"I could think of no one else that I would trust so fully to take care of my students while I am gone. I trust that with Mister Vector's and Miss Fairchild's assistance Gryffindor house will be in very capable hands as well." he said, naming the Gryffindor prefects, the latter of whom was a fifth year student who had recently taken up with one of the Slytherin Beaters, which in the opinion of some of her house mates was quite shameful and scandalous.  
  
"You want me to look after the house?"  
  
"Yes, Minerva, and you should have been a prefect this year. I will be terribly disappointed if you don't apply next year." Albus told her.  
  
"I don't know about that ..."  
  
"I believe you would be very fair-minded. I am surprised that you haven't applied in previous years."  
  
"My studies ..."  
  
"Indeed." he chuckled. "This discussion can wait until later in the spring. I only want you to be certain that your fellow lions and lionesses don't run amuck without me here ..."  
  
"They would never!"  
  
"I don't think you know some of the younger students as well as you ought." Albus told her.  
  
"I will do as you have asked."  
  
"Excellent." he said, glancing at a clock on the wall. "I must be leaving soon." he said, rising from his seat.  
  
Minerva clambered to her feet as well. Looking at him in the soft light of the office, she tried to memorize every detail of his softly smiling face, just in case something happened to him. She wanted to remember him exactly as he stood there before her. He chuckled quietly at the look in her dark eyes and held out his arms to her.  
  
"Perhaps I would not be overstepping my bounds to hug my best pupil before I leave?" he questioned.  
  
"Of course not." she answered.  
  
His arms were strong and comforting as they encircled her. She allowed herself to melt into them, feeling her heart flutter as she did so. Minerva chuckled quietly as she realized that he smelled a bit like toffee, but then there wasn't a student at the school who was unaware of his love of sweets. She felt his fingertips touch her long black hair as he released her. She managed a smile.  
  
"I will have news for you when I return, Minerva. Take care until then."  
  
"And you should do the same."  
  
"Naturally." he nodded before showing her out.  
  
Somehow she always made it both easier and harder for him to leave.  
  
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A/N: I'm not entirely pleased with how that turned out.  
  
  
Serenity Raye: When did Dumbledore start calling Minerva by her first name? Well ... I don't think I answered that. Hmm ... during her extensive Animagus training perhaps? I see her as being his best and brightest pupil. I would bet that many of the other professors have one as well. (Then why aren't they in the books? Because they are mostly Ravenclaws *wink*.) I remember several of my high school teachers having favorites (that would go over to their houses and stuff) who were also their best students (not that anything _happened_ regarding that insofar as I know - there was a marriage, but that was years later ...). Perhaps the other professors look at Minerva and see Dumbledore's protege, the next transfigurations professor. I love being challenged. Thank you very for reviewing!  
  
Sirabella: I'm glad you enjoyed those lines. I have a weird sense of humor (dark absurdist), or so some people say. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
MK: Thank you for the review!  
  
Robin: Chapter length ... I wanted to break them up in a logical way (by day/time/event) and keep them balanced as far as size is concerned. But I do appreciate the suggestion. I can't comment on the confrontation. Some people don't like it when the author gives things away. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Child-of-the-Dawn: An impossible question. Sorry! But thank you for reviewing!  
  
Michelle: I'm glad you enjoyed it. Thank you for the review!  
  
  



	10. February 15th, 1945

Chapter Ten  
  
February 15th, 1945  
  
  
  
Minerva had finished eating her dinner and had brought out one of her advanced transfigurations' books from which to study while her friends continued talking about the Quidditch match from the previous weekend in which Gryffindor had been soundly thrashed by their green-clad rivals. Minerva was almost glad that Albus had not been there to witness the massacre, which had put Daniel in the hospital for two days due to reckless and desperate flying. The Gryffindor seeker had been bruised up as well due to vicious cobbing by the Slytherins. No fowls were called, of course, as the referee, formerly of Slytherin house herself, had been biased in their favor. The game had not been a close one. Minerva followed the conversation as she studied.  
  
Then Agatha Sprout leaned over from the Hufflepuff table and nudged her gently and whispered, "Take a look who just sat down at the head table."  
  
Minerva looked up from her book and turned toward the front of the hall. She smiled with relief as she saw Professor Dumbledore take his usual seat next to the headmaster, which had been empty for what had seemed like weeks and weeks. He looked just a bit thinner than she remembered and perhaps more careworn or tired, and instead of being dressed in his customary midnight blue robes or in standard school robes, he was wearing warm traveling attire. As he took his seat, Dumbledore noticed her in the crowd of students and nodded to her, which made Minerva smile even more and blush just slightly too.   
  
Dippet whispered something to Dumbledore that caused him to turn and nod in affirmation. Professor Krohn, who had seemed unusually smug since the Quidditch match, looked over at the two older professors curiously. Minerva envied them. They would certainly hear all the latest news from the continent before the end of the evening. She would have to wait.  
  
"Minerva, you must go see him tonight." whispered Trudy Weasley. "He must have all sorts of news about the war and everything." she added.  
  
"Things that aren't in the papers." said Vector, leaning across the table.  
  
Over the previous months all of her friends had begun to show an increasing interest in the wizarding war in continental Europe, possibly brought about by the attention the conflict was receiving in all of the wizarding newspapers and Minerva's own enthusiasm in discuss the topic, including the inside information she received from Dumbledore. Daniel, Trudy, and Poppy were by far the most interested of all her friends because of what Dumbledore had been telling her and the incredible amount of respect that they had for their head of house.  
  
"Really! He probably needs to rest after such a strenuous undertaking. I'm sure he'll send for me when or if he wishes to discuss his trip to France." she said quietly, attempting to return to her book.  
  
"Min-er-va!" Daniel whined, tugging at the book.  
  
"Hush." she said, pursing her lips.  
  
"She's right." said Poppy more sensibly. "It wouldn't be fair to bother him tonight after such a long journey."  
  
"He probably just apparated to Hogsmeade. It wouldn't have been all that ..." Daniel started to say, but the three young women, Trudy included, all glared at him. "All right, all right." he shrugged.  
  
  
As Minerva left the Great Hall later the evening, leaving her friends to their never-ending Quidditch discussion, in which she usually took greater part, she heard the sound of quick and even footsteps behind her. Pausing and glancing over her shoulder, she smiled.  
  
"Good evening." she said, waiting for Dumbledore as he caught up to her.  
  
"Minerva." he nodded.  
  
"How was your visit abroad?" she inquired.  
  
Dumbledore gestured for her to walk with him down the corridor that would take them to his office. He shook his head slightly.  
  
"Neither more nor less unpleasant than the last. The wizarding community, or what remains of it, is becoming increasingly desperate. But fortunately, Grindelwald's madness and the wavering of some of his less committed supporters are slowing him down at present. I think some of his minions may be turning on him, but I do not think that they will overpower him anytime soon if at all." Dumbledore informer her.  
  
"And have they found his hiding place yet?" she questioned.  
  
"No, and the muggle war delays the search. Even the few remaining seasoned Aurors are not inclined to enter the cities that are being bombed around the clock. The risk is too great. I hardly blame them."  
  
"And the Ministry of Magic?"  
  
"Indecisive as ever." he shrugged, opening the door to his office. "Lady's first." he said with a slight bow.  
  
"Then nothing has changed."  
  
"Very little has changed, but more people volunteer their assistance each day, and that is always something."  
  
"Daniel and Trudy ..." she began, but stopped, shaking her head.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"They've begun to feel as I do, that we shouldn't be sitting here idly."  
  
"You've had a profound effect upon your peers then."  
  
"No, you have, Albus. They see the lengths that you go to ... and they want to do the same. What should I tell them?" Minerva questioned.  
  
"Only what I have told you, many times now." he chuckled. "Your generation will have its own conflicts, and if this one lasts much longer, you may all take part in it too, but for now your obligations are to yourselves, your families, and your studies. Let those of us who are older and perhaps a little wiser handle this while we yet may."  
  
"So you're counseling noninvolvement?"  
  
"Of course not, Minerva. I am merely counseling caution to my young students who have seen far too few winters." he told her gently. "Now, I want to hear about anything I might have missed during my extended absence." said Dumbledore, changing the subject.  
  
"I take it that someone has already told you about the match on Saturday."  
  
"Oh, yes, Professor Krohn wasted no time in informing me of the results. I imagine that he will be telling me the highlights of the game for weeks to come."  
  
"And the team practiced every single day ..."  
  
"I am well aware of that. And, despite what some people may think, Quidditch is only a game."  
  
Minerva looked at him for a moment as though he had lost his mind entirely.  
  
"But, Albus ..." she protested.  
  
"A game, Minerva, brought to this school long before your time or mine to encourage students to strengthen their bodies as well as their minds, to enhance their skills on the broom, and to provide them with a competitive pastime that permits them to forget about their studies a few weekends out of the year. And it has done all those things well enough though at the cost of further dividing the houses."  
  
"You're just disappointed that we lost."  
  
"Perhaps."  
  
"Well, maybe Ravenclaw will be able to beat them in a few weeks." shrugged Minerva, who would always prefer a Ravenclaw victory to a Slytherin one.  
  
"Professor Flitwick seemed quite confident." Dumbledore agreed. "And how are your studies coming? I noticed that you were reading at dinner tonight."  
  
"_After_ dinner." she clarified, pulling a book from one of her robe pockets.  
  
"That book is quite advanced." said Albus with pleased smile, taking the volume to examine it. "I was considering it for my seventh years next term." he added.  
  
"Then I would be considerably ahead."  
  
"Rubbish. You already are, Minerva." he commented.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Have you made any progress with your Animagus abilities?" he inquired, returning the book to her.  
  
"You have always been the better judge of my progress."  
  
"Then you haven't managed the transformation?"  
  
"I've gotten light-headed several times." she shrugged with a small sigh. "But I can't find out if that's a good sign or not. None of the books mention that sort of thing."  
  
"I would take it as a good sign. I attempted to cultivate the skill before choosing to concentrate on both transfigurations and potions instead of pursuing only one area of study. My professor mentioned nosebleeds prior to his own first successful transformation. If it persists, perhaps we should see Madam Plummer about it."  
  
"Of course." Minerva acquiesced.  
  
"Are you up for an attempt tonight? I would very much like to see you do it, but I won't press the matter if you are tired." said Dumbledore, leaning forward in his chair with a twinkle in his eyes.  
  
"I don't mind at all. I just hope that you don't expect too much, Albus." she cautioned, rising from her chair and leaving her book on the seat.  
  
"I always expect much from you, Minerva, and you never disappoint me." he chuckled as she closed her eyes.  
  
"No pressure then." she muttered.  
  
Minerva exhaled slowly and relaxed, turning all over her concentration inward and toward one goal: the transformation. She unclenched her hands and tried to tune out the crackling of the fire. She was keenly aware of Albus watching her and forced that from her mind, along with the fierce desire to please him and to make him proud. She focused all of her energy on becoming an Animagus.  
  
For a moment she felt extremely dizzy and her ears popped as though the air pressure in the room had changed substantially.  
  
"Well done!" laughed Professor Dumbledore as she opened her eyes.  
  
Minerva frowned and looked up at him, noticing that the room seemed different, bigger somehow and certainly less colorful. Then she realized that she had whiskers and paws. She flopped onto her side in surprise and utter astonishment. She was a cat! Perhaps all she had needed all along was more pressure to perform to the best of her abilities.  
  
Dumbledore chuckled as the gray tabby cat seemed to smirk up at him. There was a look of accomplishment in her eyes.  
  
"I knew you were ready, Minerva. The transformation is perfect. Your markings are quite excellent too, especially those around your eyes. A very nice touch." said the transfigurations' professor. "I am very glad to have witnessed this. We will need to have you registered with the Ministry soon. That should be quite exciting." he added.  
  
Minerva changed back and laughed as she looked up at Albus from the floor. There were tears of happiness in her eyes. She had been training for almost two years in preparation for the day when she would achieve her goal of becoming an Animagus.  
  
"It should be indeed!" she said, accepting a hand up from Dumbledore. She swayed slightly, feeling both quite exhausted and incredibly dizzy.  
  
"I will be looking forward to the day. I intend to go with you, if that's all right. You are my first student to have been successful, and I can't wait to see the look on the faces of those fellows down at the registration office." he said, steadying her.  
  
"Of course you must come!" she laughed giddily. "Could we go tonight?"  
  
"Thank you, Minerva, but for now I think you should return to the Tower and rest. I imagine that took quite a bit out of you." said Dumbledore, smiling at her. "I'll escort you." he added.  
  
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A/N: I was planning to update earlier, but other stuff got in the way. Does anyone know why everything looks shorter in html?  
  
  
Sanguine Quill: It is always a great relief to hear someone compliment my characters and/or characterizations. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Child-of-the-Dawn: Thank you very much for the review!  
  
MK: I'm glad you enjoyed that. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
auroraziazan: I have read stories with the age difference between Tom and Minerva ranging from + 3 (Tom older) and - 7 (Minerva older), so apparenty I am not the only one. Not that excuses inaccuracy. I just can't quite find a perfect standard age for Minerva like the one for Riddle (graduates in 1945, therefore born in 1928/29). Math is not my strong suit. But thank you for pointing that out and for reviewing!  
  
Isis Malfoy: *blushes* Thanks for the very positive review!  
  
Whisper: Weird reviews are often my favorite. And a weird review *wink* deserves a weird response. So as for the 'pervert' question/thing ... um, well, how to answer that without giving anything away ... I can only assure you that I will be careful. My HP writing background (as far as romantic pairings go) is entirely teacher-student, but as I know of at least one of those relationships that worked out in real life, I usually don't feel too guilty writing them. I don't really like OC's myself, but I have read one too many stories (MWPP era especially) where the canon characters seem like they are the only ones in existence (a school of five to eight students and professors) and didn't want to do that. Trying to find a happy medium. I try very hard to keep Albus and Minerva reasonably in character while still recognizing that fifty years ago is a long time. I will attempt not to disappoint (especially regarding the Dumbled and Grindelwald thing *starts sweating*). Your review was very entertaining. Thanks!  
  
  



	11. March 17th, 1945

Chapter Eleven  
  
March 17th, 1945  
  
  
  
The days passed in a flurry of activity. Minerva McGonagall was a proudly registered Animagus, and the transformations were growing easier for her by the day. It was almost fair to say that some of her friends were envious of her ability. Many of them had never known anyone who had completed the training as the Animagus ability was among the rarest ones in existence. Only the tongues, such as the one in which Tom Riddle could speak, were counted as more uncommon or unusual, though the Minerva's ability was considered as more valuable.  
  
Professor Dumbledore, with the permission of the headmaster, had spent another two weeks in France after bring his classes back up to speed, which was an easy enough task, thanks to Minerva and her study group. He had just returned to the school late that evening following a particularly harrowing time on the continent. The Aurors with whom he was working, Claire and Thibault from the French Ministry and two off-duty English Aurors, and himself walked into an ambush by a few of Grindelwald's young and ardent supporters, who reveled in killing at their master's command whether he was mad or not.   
  
They had taken heavy losses, three of the Aurors, including those from England, but for what it was worth Grindelwald's supporters were killed as well. There was no comfort in that fact; not even his French comrade could take any in it. They had been no older than sixteen. What was the expression Thibault had used? Cannon fodder? But what had happened their colleagues was worse. Claire, Albus realized, had heard the killing curse being cast and had instinctively stepped in front of him. She had saved his life. But no one could save the other Aurors. Thibault and Albus had escaped only because of luck and his friend's experience.  
  
On his way back into the castle that evening, Dumbledore passed Daniel Vector in the corridor.  
  
"Good evening, professor." said Daniel cheerfully.  
  
"Send Minerva to my office, would you, son?" he questioned.  
  
Vector could see the tiredness and worry in the eyes of his head of house. Both were more than a bit uncharacteristic of Dumbledore.  
  
"Of course. I think she's studying at the moment. Something she's been at lately. Potions and alchemy, I believe." Daniel told him with a nod.  
  
There was only the vaguest twinkle in his eyes at Daniel's words. Minerva was trying to follow in his footsteps, he suspected.  
  
"Thank you, Mister Vector." said the professor.  
  
Vector turned to go run the errand, but frowned and asked over his shoulder, "Is everything all right, professor?"  
  
"No, it isn't." answered Dumbledore, who was walking away slowly in the direction of his office.  
  
  
Daniel caught up to Minerva at the library where she could often be found after dinner whenever Professor Dumbledore was absent from Hogwarts. She was seated a well-secluded table near the rear of the library, apparently reading through several books at once in an attempt to 'do her own research' while also working on a potions' essay.  
  
"Dumbledore is back, and he wants to see you, of course." said Vector. "In his office tonight." he added with a slight smirk.  
  
Dumbledore was several days early. Minerva's eyes lit up as she began gathering up her things.  
  
"Thank you very much, Daniel." she said.  
  
"I make an excellent errand boy, you know."  
  
"That you do." she agreed.  
  
"I bet he has some interesting news if he wants to see you immediately and everything. Should we wait up for you?"  
  
"Please don't. You _are_ a prefect, Daniel, and shouldn't encourage such things." she said sternly.  
  
"Breakfast, I suppose?" he asked with a sigh.  
  
"Well, you had better tell Poppy then. She's been skipping breakfast lately." said Minerva with vague disapproval.  
  
"If she's going into the mediwitch program at St. Mungo's, she has to get top marks ..." said Daniel.  
  
"She's thirteen! She has plenty of time for good marks _and_ a sensible breakfast!" Minerva argued quietly, following him out of the library.  
  
  
Professor Dumbledore was already putting on a kettle for tea as Minerva walked into his office. Tonight he did not bother the house elves for it. He was preparing everything himself. He pressed an empty cup into her hands for later as she took her seat by the fire. Minerva frowned as she looked into his eyes. Albus seemed very weary and troubled. She touched his hand as she accepted the porcelain cup. He was slightly cold to the touch.  
  
"Is there anything wrong, Albus?" she questioned quietly. For someone completely lacking skills in Divination, her intuition at that particular moment was very good.  
  
The professor took a heavy seat in his chair, leaving his own cup on the tray. He leaned forward and looked at her carefully over his spectacles. He could hide very little from Miss McGonagall.  
  
"Yes, Minerva, and I don't know quite how I should tell you this. I have had some amount of experience delivering bad news of late, but ... I count you among my closest friends, Minerva, and I hope you know that."  
  
She set her teacup on a table by her chair and said, "Of course, Albus. Whatever it is, just tell me."  
  
As Minerva watched him struggle to find the right words, she felt a sudden shiver of nervousness and concern. Albus was good with words and very straightforward. This was very uncharacteristic of him in so many ways.  
  
"Your parents," he began, "were volunteering in France. I imagine they told you ..."  
  
"No, they haven't mention it, but then they don't owl me very often." said Minerva, ducking her head slightly.  
  
"They began some weeks ago, at my urging, I must admit."  
  
"Something's happen to them." she said bluntly, a look of fear and horror coming into her eyes as she looked up again. Her heart was hammering.  
  
"Yes, you see, Minerva, they were killed last night during an ambush. I'm sorry. I am terribly sorry." he told her, reaching to take her hand.  
  
"There must be some sort of mistake. My parents are very good at what they do. They certainly wouldn't get themselves killed like that." she managed.  
  
"I was ... I was there, Minerva. I am afraid that they are dead." he said gently.  
  
He watched her blink away the tears, trying almost frantically to hold them back. She was so strong and so young. Albus gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.  
  
"If you want to cry, I won't think any less of you." he said softly.  
  
Her mind was reeling, but the only thing Minerva could think about was how much she didn't want to break down in front of her transfigurations' professor. His words didn't seem to make any sense. She felt numb, almost as though she had been hit by a stray stunning spell, and nothing made sense at all. Not the way she felt, not what was going on around her. She was just supposed to be visiting her professor, her friend. The world wasn't supposed to turn upside down like this. And her ears seemed to be ringing, but she didn't know why. Minerva looked at the hand of her professor, the one clutching her own in a tight, but comfortable grip. Why was he doing that? Her eyes stung, and she touched the dampness at their rims with her fingertips. She was crying. She didn't want to cry. She clung to that thought.  
  
Minerva raised her head and looked into his clear blue eyes and saw tears forming there. She frowned and struggled to swallow. There was a tightness in her throat that made it difficult. He was going to cry too? She wasn't sure if that made it better or worse. She struggled to her feet, and Albus rose with her, pulling her into his arms and holding her as she gasped for breath, still contending with her own emotions, still holding back most of her tears. He hushed her softly and gently stroked her long, dark hair.  
  
"It will be all right, Minerva, in time." he assured her.  
  
"It won't." she said. "It will never be all right again."  
  
"I'm so sorry, Minerva." he whispered as her shoulders shook. "I would have done anything to spare ..."  
  
"It's not your fault. It's his. Grindelwald's. He takes everything away from us. I asked you ..." she said, making a hiccuping sound. "I asked you how close to home the war could come. Now I guess I know."  
  
"I remember." he said, releasing her and guiding her back into her seat. Brushing a few stray strands of hair from her damp face, Dumbledore said, "Let me pour you that cup of tea now."  
  
Minerva nodded mutely, looking into the fire and periodically wiping her eyes as he busied himself with the teapot. The world had seemed mostly logical, mostly within the scope of her comprehension, just that afternoon. Now all of that was gone, replaced by the sound of her own heart in her ears and a numbing ache in the center of her chest.  
  
Albus looked at her guiltily. What right had he had to involve her parents in this mess? He had never imagined that they would be killed so senselessly, so suddenly. The pain on her face cut him to the very quick. He shook his head and poured a few drops of dreamless sleep potion into her tea. It would calm her down and permit her to sleep that night. It would fix nothing and give her no solace, but at least she would sleep untroubled and perhaps that would help her as much as anything possibly could.  
  
She accepted the tea gratefully and drank it quickly despite its hotness. It gave her mind something to concentrate on other than the spinning and the aching pain of loss. Albus took the cup back from her.  
  
"Thank you." she whispered.  
  
"I can arrange for you to miss classes this week. You need time to ..." he began to tell her.  
  
"No, I don't need any time. My parents ... would expect me to push forward, to carry on, and not to go crying like some silly little girl."  
  
"They would understand, Minerva." he stated emphatically.  
  
She was beginning to feel sleepy as she looked up at him, searching his blue eyes for answers to all of her questions and knowing that she could trust him.  
  
"What do you think is best, Albus? I will do whatever you think is best."  
  
"Then I will make certain that you have the proper amount of time to grieve. When you are ready, you may return to your classes and so forth." he answered.  
  
"Very well." she said with a soft yawn. "You gave me something in the tea." she accused.  
  
"Yes." he admitted.  
  
"Thank you. I suppose I need it." she said before closing her eyes.  
  
Dumbledore watch her rather sadly as she fell asleep in her chair by the fire. The grief and pain would be with her for a long time, but Minerva was strong. He was very glad of that.  
  
He sighed softly and lifted her from the chair. All of her peers would be in bed already. Part of him longed to take her to his rooms to watch over Minerva and take care of her himself. Her sleeping face, though still damp with tears, was very peaceful and quite lovely. It was for the latter reason the he instead returned her to her dormitory in Gryffindor Tower, carrying her through the dark and empty halls of the castle.   
  
His own professors and his colleagues had fallen in love with many of their sixth and seventh year students, though he doubted that it was always love that guided the actions of some, but it had never happened to him, at least not before Minerva McGonagall came along. And he had no idea what to do about it because he valued her as a friend above anything and everything else. He would do nothing and would say nothing to endanger that, especially not during her time of grief and mourning.   
  
He dared not entertain the thought that she too might harbor such feelings. It would have been almost impossible.  
  
"I am old and she is young, but what does that really mean for us?" he thought absently, tucking her into bed.  
  
Albus sighed softly as he leaned down and kissed her forehead before returning to his office. There was still much to be done, much to be considered, though thoughts of Minerva were never far from his mind.  
  
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A/N: I don't know if I handled that in the best possible way. But I suppose the no-crying thing needs an explanation: being raised by Aurors does not a weepy girl make. Her parents (in my opinion) would have done their best to raise her to be very strong and all that that implies. But then Minerva is only human too.  
  
  
Aislin: I'm glad you liked that part. Thanks for the very specific review!  
  
MK: Thank you for the review!  
  
Whisper: Yes, actually I do know where this is going. It is a companion piece to another fic that I wrote ... Okay, but, technically that story is going to have a sequel, so I know where this part of the story is going (I have ... a map!), but I don't know how absolutely everything will end up. I love Hermione/Snape and Ginny/Remus (oh, yeah, huge potential problems there). I definitely appreciate your concerns. I have read a few stories here and there that have just made me go, 'Um, no ... not in million years' *clicks back button*. This chapter might ease of your immediate concerns. Minerva does seem rather mature for her age. I would attribute that to her partentage (see above A/N) and to a slightly lesser degree, Dumbledore's influence. As for her perceptions, her Animagus form is a cat for a reason. Okay, that's a bit lame. I write ahead instead of posting immediately (I change my mind too much to post things that are entirely WIPs and it causes writer's block). Thank you very much for reviewing!  
  
Serenity Raye: I may go back and edit the transformation later or something. I wasn't all that happy with it either. Anyway, the reason the talked about the war was because _he_ had gone looking for _her_, and not vice versa. I admit that could be a bit off too. I'm glad you pointed that out. I think Minerva's schoolmates will be showing up some, but not a whole lot. Thanks for the review!  
  
stoneygem: Ah, someone took a peek at my bio. Cool. I enjoy a lot of Peter Maffay's music. The some of songs from the "Begegnung" album are rather interesting, and "So Bist Du", "Zwei in einem Boot", and "Wölfe sterben niemals aus" are really neat. I also like "Es war Sommer", but I think I read too much into it (if only my German were better!). Unfortunately, I don't know which songs are/were popular, so I might be naming really weird stuff. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Child-of-the-Dawn: A story about young Minerva would not be complete with the transformation. Thanks for the review!  
  
  



	12. March 23rd, 1945

Chapter Twelve  
  
March 23rd, 1945  
  
  
  
Minerva was excused from classes for a full week, but she still insisted upon eating her meals with her friends and house mates. Daniel and Trudy often tried to cheer her up with talk about how badly Ravenclaw had beaten Slytherin in the last Quidditch match of the season. Poppy and Agatha were a little more subtle, leaving chocolate and freshly transfigured flowers on her pillow or on the table by her bed. They didn't mention the war or anything to do with it. They were all young and quite intelligent, but did not know exactly what to say or do for her while she mourned. Minerva could never quite find the words to tell them that she was grateful for the Quidditch talk and the small expressions of concern and sympathy, but she was thankful for all of it and for their silent, but genuine support.  
  
Professor Dumbledore, once he was certain that Minerva would be all right, had returned to the battlefield again at the behest of his friends in the French Ministry. Though he had refused their offer of official certification, Albus was acting as an Auror, tracking down Dark Wizards and capturing or killing them. His preference was always for the first option, though they often would not come willingly. More than one Dark Wizard in the face of certain capture had turned their wands upon themselves. But no matter how many were captured or how many died, there always seemed to be more to obey the commands of Grindelwald, who continued to elude them all.  
  
  
Some days remained before Minerva would return to her classes. The grief had become less shattering, but it stayed with her nonetheless, haunting her like a pale specter of anguish and loss. She spent many hours alone in the library, dutifully continuing her studies despite the fact that it had been her mentor's intention that she rest and come to terms with what had happened. But keeping Minerva away from the library or her books was a fool's errand. Those were always the things that had always made her the happiest, at least in her transfigurations' professor's absence.  
  
After a long day researching for her potions' essay and preparing for the transfigurations' study group, Minerva stuffed her books and parchments into her bag and started back toward Gryffindor Tower. As she passed the corridor leading down to the dungeons, she heard a ripping sound and looked down just in time to see the contents of her school bag spill out on the floor. She sighed softly and knelt to gather up her books, quills, and parchments. Everything was jumbled together and out of order.  
  
"It will take hours to straighten up this mess." she thought miserably.  
  
As she shuffled the parchments together, she failed to hear the sound of approaching footsteps until they were nearly upon her.  
  
"Well, if it isn't McGonagall." said an unpleasant voice.  
  
She started and looked over her shoulder at the three Slytherins standing behind her: Hadrian Malfoy and Olive Hornby with none other than the leader of the Slytherins, Tom Marvolo Riddle standing coolly behind the pair. It was Malfoy who had spoken.  
  
"What do you want?" she asked crisply, continuing to gather up her things.  
  
Hornby idly kicked a quill out her reach and giggled to herself. Minerva merely glared at her, though she was very close to rising to the occasion. Hornby, like many of the young women of her house, was normally content to work mischief from a less conspicuous position, but with companions like Riddle and Malfoy, she could afford to appear bolder.  
  
"Want? What makes you think that we want anything of you? I should think, perhaps, you might want something of us though, orphan that you are and very much in need of - shall we say - protection in these perilous times." said Malfoy conversationally.  
  
"How very interesting, Mister Malfoy. Do go on." said an impassive voice from just behind them.  
  
Minerva was on her feet just in time to see Professor Krohn step out of the shadows. He looked at his three students very carefully with an inscrutable expression on his face. She saw his eyes glint beneath his hair. His anger, though carefully hidden, was almost palpable as he stepped toward the trio. Malfoy gulped quietly, and Hornby stared at the floor. Only Riddle could even look at him, but it was well known that nothing frightened Tom, except perhaps Professor Dumbledore.  
  
"I am quite ashamed of all of you, especially you, Tom. You all know better than this. In the future, you would all do well to remember to leave Miss McGonagall strictly alone. It is unseemly to badger a helpless thing." he told them all very sternly.  
  
Minerva felt her cheeks redden at his words. Helpless? Thing? Of all the nerve! She clenched her fist and struggled to find words to fit her anger.  
  
Then Tom Riddle smirked at her and said, "Of course, professor." He spoke for all of them.  
  
"Then get out of my sight." Krohn said, pointing them toward the dungeons.  
  
As they hurried away he regarded Minerva with his piercing, cool gaze and glanced at her things upon the floor.  
  
"My apologies." he said quietly, picking up the quill that Olive had kicked away from her. "They are who they have become."  
  
"And you? What's your excuse?" she questioned, gritting her teeth and kneeling to retrieve her belongings.  
  
"One and the same." he replied, taking no notice of her tone as he knelt to offer his assistance. He lifted a piece of parchment and glanced at it. "Still working on your essay?" he questioned.  
  
"Naturally."  
  
"You have an additional week ..."  
  
"It will be done on time, professor." she said, taking the parchment from his hand.  
  
"Miss McGonagall, I know this will not mean anything to you ... especially coming from me, but I am truly sorry for your loss." he told her, taking his wand from his pocket and repairing the burst seam of her bag.  
  
She looked up at him curiously and asked, "Why shouldn't it mean more coming from you?" Privately she added, "Just because you're mean-spirited, arrogant, and snide man ..." But then there was the other matter. "We have both been touched by the war and by the darkness of these days. We have something in common there." she said aloud. "Though I would prefer if you didn't refer to me in such unflattering terms. I dare say that Malfoy and Hornby need no assistance in finding ways to taunt Gryffindors." she told him.  
  
Krohn swept his hair back slightly to reveal a look of mild surprise on his face.  
  
"I don't know what to say. I never meant for my words to offend. Surely you understand ... But, no, you are a Gryffindor. You wouldn't understand our code of conduct."  
  
"I suppose not." Minerva agreed dryly.  
  
"But you are right. We do share something now. We have both lost those dear to us because of events that are out of ours hands. I hope this changes your opinion of the conflict. I hope that you see now that no good can come of recklessly challenging Grindelwald."  
  
"I don't see it that way at all." she told Professor Krohn, putting her things back into the mended bag. "I know that I can never get back what was taken from me, but ... more than ever I want to see him punished for what he has done. I want to see Grindelwald punished for all the murders on the continent, including ... including my parents, and even for what has happened to your family. I won't stop wanting it until ... until I get it." she said forcefully.  
  
"Revenge?" he questioned. "Or perhaps justice? Perhaps in this case they may be the same thing. In either event I do not think you will get it. You will find only pain."  
  
"I will not be content to do nothing. Not always. I am not like you." Minerva told him with fierceness in her eyes.  
  
"No, you are not." said Krohn, rising and looking down at her with a pinched expression. "Good evening, Miss McGonagall." he said shortly, turning and walking away.  
  
Minerva watched him go and felt her anger diminish as she swung her bag onto her shoulder. It was a pity, she decided, that he was so unwilling to act, so cowardly. He could have been a useful ally. With that thought Minerva turned and walked in the opposite direction down the corridor.  
  
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A/N: I am not a Riddle fan. Sad, isn't it?  
  
  
MK: I definitely think you're right about Minerva keeping it inside. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Isis Malfoy: I have read a number of stories where Minerva's parents are killed in the Grindelwald era conflict. I think it's one of those things that might become fanon one day. As for the ending in the other story (as it relates to this one), the sequel to it is almost done, so I don't want to comment on bittersweet (my favorite) vs completely happy endings. But I really appreciate the review!  
  
Child-of-the-Dawn: *blushes* You're welcome! I can totally picture that conversation. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Inca: Minerva is sixteen (going on seventeen). Poppy doesn't have classes with her, but since the whole house eats at the same table, Poppy sometimes eats her meals with Minerva, Trudy, Daniel, and Agatha, who are all older. When I was thirteen I had a lot of older friends (16 -18). Maybe my life experiences have shaped that aspect of the story too much. Meh ... Poppy eventually goes into medicine, so maybe she's just more mature. Anyway, thanks for pointing out the lack of clarity there, and thank you for reviewing!  
  
  



	13. April 15th, 1945

Chapter Thirteen  
  
April 15th, 1945  
  
  
  
The weeks had passed quickly as the term wore on. Minerva had her routine of classes, study groups, and other academic tasks to sustain her while Dumbledore was in France for days at a time, always returning a little more worried and haggard. She no longer needed to ask him how the war on the continent was progressing. She could see it in his eyes. Grindelwald would never be defeated. It would require something of a miracle.  
  
Then, one morning as Minerva made her way toward the Great Hall for an early breakfast, she heard raised voices in the staff room. She paused and listened as she recognized the voice of Headmaster Dippet.  
  
"This is final, Albus. You cannot return to the continent until the school year is over. It has become much too dangerous."  
  
"But, Armando, they are close, very close, to locating his stronghold. They will need every possible resource to defeat him. If I remain here ..." said Dumbledore, the barest hint of desperation in his voice.  
  
"You are only one man, Albus. I cannot spare your talents any longer. You have students taking their tests soon. You must be here for them. Your friends must simply make do." said Dippet with a note of finality in his tone.  
  
Minerva frowned. Was the headmaster a fool? Albus should go where he was needed. That was imperative. He had supported his friends and colleagues aboard for a long time. How could he be expected to abandon them at this juncture?  
  
"You don't understand the magnitude of the conflict ..." Dumbledore started to say.  
  
"That is quite enough. You have a future here, Albus, and everyone knows that. Don't say anything rash, anything that you might regret." Dippet warned him sternly.  
  
There was a short silence. Minerva strained to hear what was said thereafter.  
  
"And everyone else on the faculty concurs with your decision?" Dumbledore questioned.  
  
"I am the headmaster of this school. I don't need their support in this matter. Remember that you were granted an extraordinary amount of latitude this year, Albus." said Dippet.  
  
"And for that I am grateful." said Dumbledore resignedly.  
  
"Thank you, Albus, now I am going to have a spot of breakfast. Don't you have a bit of business to take care of?" inquired Headmaster Dippet conversationally.  
  
"In just a moment."  
  
Minerva ducked around a corner as the staff room door opened. She listened as she heard the sound of retreating footsteps, Dippet going to have his breakfast, not at all bothered by the fact that his actions might condemn many on the continent to death. He might believe that Albus Dumbledore was only one man, but Minerva knew that he was a powerful ally to the forces of good and a wizard to be reckoned with, though he often chose to exhibit a certain modesty and humility that belied his greatness.  
  
When she was quite sure that Dippet had gone, she walked to the staff room door and peered cautiously inside. Professor Dumbledore was standing behind the high backed chair that stood before the hearth. The chair where Professor Binns had died, she noted, stepping into the room. Dumbledore glanced over his shoulder and smiled rather sadly.  
  
"I knew you were around." he said to her. "Knowing that helped me to keep my temper."  
  
"I certainly would have lost mine." said Minerva.  
  
"You heard all of that then?"  
  
"I heard ... enough." she nodded.  
  
"As did I." he agreed laughing quietly.  
  
"What will you do now?" she asked, noticing only as he turned toward her that his nose had been broken and that his left arm was in a sling. She gasped aloud and asked, "What the devil happened to you, Albus?"  
  
"Which question to answer." he mused.  
  
"Albus, you must go and see Madam Plummer straight away. Your nose ... You should have something done." she said, reaching out to touch his face.  
  
He leaned down slightly as she stood on tip-toe to examine his face, cupping it in her hands very gently. His eyes twinkled softly.  
  
"It has healed of its own accord, Minerva. I think I shall consider it a souvenir from the war."  
  
"It ... doesn't look so bad really ... I suppose." she said hesitantly.  
  
It was difficult for Minerva to say. She had always believed that his long nose was very regal and noble looking, making him appear all the more wise and learned. Now it was rather crooked and skewed.  
  
"But weren't there any mediwitches or wizards over there?" she questioned.  
  
"Precious few, Minerva, and none who could waste the time to treat such trifles as this. And I trust you understand the difficulty involved in doing myself." he said.  
  
"Quite." she nodded. Most witches and wizards would balk at the idea of trying to heal their own broken nose. The aim required was a bit too precarious to attempt cross-eyed.  
  
"My arm is another matter. I intend to have it look at." said Dumbledore.  
  
"May I walk with you to the hospital wing then?" questioned Minerva.  
  
"I imagine that you were on your way to have breakfast."  
  
"Yes, but it can certainly wait."  
  
"Thank you, Minerva. You are always a great comfort to me." he said.  
  
"Rubbish." she muttered, taking him by his uninjured arm and leading him out of the staff room. "Now, are you going to tell me how you wound up in this sorry state or must I guess?" she questioned.  
  
"It was a particularly violent disarming charm cast by an overconfident Dark Wizard during yet another ambush. I dare say that he planned to have some fun using one or two of the Unforgivables, but Thibault caught him from behind rather nicely with a petrifying spell." explained Dumbledore as they walked.  
  
Minerva shuddered involuntarily at the thought and at her mentor's easy-going, nonchalant description of the incident.   
  
Albus squeezed her hand, adding, "It wasn't so bad, Minerva."  
  
"But it could have been."  
  
"Well, you won't have to worry about me until summer now."  
  
"So you will be abiding by Headmaster Dippet's decision then?" she questioned.  
  
"I have a responsibility to my students, about that there can be no mistake. I do not think the headmaster would hesitate to let me go, future here or not. He has the authority and the will to use it. For now that is enough to keep me here and out of trouble, though there may come a time ..."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I have said too much perhaps on this matter." he said.  
  
"If they find him, you will go?" Minerva questioned quietly.  
  
"Thibault will owl me when that happens, and, yes, I shall probably answer the summons." he nodded.  
  
Minerva said nothing. She could almost sense what Albus was thinking. When Grindelwald was found, he would go and face the Dark Wizard himself. She knew he was considering that course of action. He was a Gryffindor, and she knew him well. But she merely tightened her grip upon his uninjured arm and said nothing. There was nothing to say in the matter. Only time could tell how it would be resolved.  
  
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A/N: Warning long review responses ahead.  
  
  
Serenity Raye: I really appreciate your comments about Dumbledore's conduct. I have to admit that I briefly considered him taking care of her there, but the characters would not cooperate (and for good reason!). Hmm... Who is teaching Dumbledore's classes? Well, unlike Care of Magical Creatures, finding a good substitute for Transfigurations' is probably a bit difficult, so difficult in fact that even the author could not neatly resolve the dilemma. Technically, judging by the constantly mentioned study group, one must picture an incompentent assistant professor of some sort (though in my experience these sort of people, 'incompetent' and 'assistant professor', do not exist in real life - or I was very lucky). I thought about creating an OC for the position, but decided that I had reached my limit. Good question though. Krohn is a different story too. He has the ability to make her angry like no one else alive. It's that little bit of temper that we see at the end of GoF (mellows over time like with most people). As for the other professors, I assume you mean the exchange with Dippet and Binns, I think she acted like a regular student, considering the circumstances. (The first chapter of the sequel should be posted in a day or so.) Thank you very much for reviewing!  
  
MK: You like Voldemort? It's the eyes, isn't it? Thanks for the review!  
  
Freelancer: Don't worry about it. I love your stories, but my reviews are usually also influenced by the amount of caffeine/sugar I have had, so I doubt they are all that helpful. Anyway, I'm glad you enjoyed the Ravenclaw Quidditch win (I'm a Slytherin, so they never lose to Gryffindor in my stories, but Ravenclaw is my second favorite house). I wonder about Olive Hornby a lot from her being mentioned in CoS. She makes a good Slytherin in my opinion. As for the orphan thing, Tom is the consummate Slytherin and would say or have his 'followers' say anything necessary to bully or manipulate Minerva. He's a strategist too, I imagine, very calculating. And I wonder if _everyone_ knows about his origins (the professors, of course), but did his house mates know everything? I see Tom as waiting for the day that Grindelwald comes to England with great anticipation (maybe he saw Grindelwald as a role model). Meh ... Too much speculation. I'm hoping for a horrible death for Voldie too. Your comment about going somewhere with Krohn ... in the story was very amusing. Certainly not in real life. He would never go anywhere with me *sulks* not that I would want him to. Long story. Good luck with Romeo and Juliet! And thanks for reviewing!  
  
Whisper: I admit the end of chapter ... um, eleven was lacking a little clarity or consistency or something. I was trying to convey a sense of Dumbledore not knowing exactly how Minerva feels about him. (Does anyone ever know exactly what someone else feels?) Meh ... Maybe I could have been more clear. You do psychology? Cool! That was my major in school. Tom Riddle is seventeen (7th year). I'm almost certain his timeline is correct. Actually Tom has already gotten away with the Chamber of Secrets incident - that would have been during the 1942-43 school year, right? I took the fifty years between him opening it and HP & CoS literally. I'm glad you liked the appearance by Olive (it was going to be either her or Sybill Trelawney and I kind of like Sybill, so ...). Thank you very much for the reviews!  
  
  



	14. April 29th, 1945

Chapter Fourteen  
  
April 29th, 1945  
  
  
  
Minerva and Albus were enjoying afternoon tea together and discussing the Sunday edition of _The Daily Prophet_ when a delivery owl flew into the office through the open office window. Dumbledore put his tea cup aside as he recognized Thibault's owl from France. The bird had flown many miles to deliver the note attached to its leg. It lighted upon the armrest of Dumbledore's chair and waited patiently as he removed the scrap of parchment from its leg.  
  
"To the owlery with you. See that you're fed and rested before you return." the professor told the owl as he unrolled the message.  
  
"What is it, Albus?" questioned Minerva curiously.  
  
"Just a letter from a friend." he said quietly as he read it.  
  
She raised her eyebrows and asked, "From the continent?"  
  
"Yes." he said, putting the note next to his tea cup. "But it is nothing to be concerned about. They have merely missed me over there these past few weeks."  
  
"You are such a terrible liar." she thought, sipping her tea and eyeing the piece of parchment.  
  
Minerva could practically hear the gears turning as he left his seat to pour himself another cup. He was pondering something very serious. She could see it in his eyes as he tried to look casual. It was amusing actually. Or it would be if it didn't make her so very nervous.  
  
An errant spring breeze through the open window unfolded the note for her. She squinted and read a few words from the paper:  
  
"_... has been found ... unfortunately the ... muggles is still heavy. We are ... until we can strike. You must come soon or not at all, mon ami. Thibault._"  
  
As Albus returned with his tea, Minerva tried to look innocent and unconcerned. Apparently, Grindelwald's lair had been located, but the muggle war was preventing them from acting decisively. Thibault wanted Albus to return and help them and soon. She had read enough for it to worry her tremendously. Would her mentor refuse his friend? She did not think so.  
  
"Albus, if you wanted, you could have four willing witches and wizards to go with you ..."  
  
"Minerva ..." he said warningly.  
  
"I know."  
  
"You think I am going back?" he said, glancing at the unfolded note and frowning at her as he looked over his glasses. He had wanted her opinion, but dared not ask for it. Minerva would never cause a scene, but the argument was inevitable.  
  
"It was the wind." she said quietly.  
  
"Possibly." he agreed. "You must understand, Minerva, that I cannot ask you to come and I certainly cannot accept any offer that you or your young friends may make. It would be unethical for me to involve my charges in this war."  
  
"Wars, wizard and muggle, have always been fought by the young." she said defiantly.  
  
"And the results have too often been disastrous. Perhaps this once our side in this one war can fight the right way, sending only those who are ready into the fray, those who are prepared."  
  
"Can a person truly be prepared for this sort of thing?"  
  
Albus sighed and removed his spectacles. Minerva had never seen him without them. His unobscured gaze was impossibly penetrating. She could not even look him in the eye.  
  
"Minerva, you are so intelligent, so strong-willed. And I think that you might be correct. But I don't want to argue with you now. Not now."  
  
She felt suddenly cold. There was finality in his voice. Almost as though he would never speak to her again and wanted to remember her in a certain way. Albus wasn't concerned that he would lose his job; he was concerned that he would lose his life and start that next great adventure having exchanged words of an antagonistic nature with his young friend. Minerva blinked back the sudden tears and stole a glance at him as he replaced the spectacles.  
  
"All right, Albus." she managed.  
  
"Thank you, Minerva." he said, leaning toward her patting her hand gently.  
  
"Just promise me something." she said before she could stop herself.  
  
"I'm listening."  
  
"Promise me that you will ..." and here she hesitated. She wanted him to promise to come back alive. But Minerva realized that she could not ask him to promise her that. It seemed entirely possible that he would not be able to keep it. "Not leave without saying good-bye."  
  
Albus Dumbledore regarded her strangely for a moment, hearing the promises asked and unasked as she looked at him.  
  
"And if I say it now? Would that suffice, my dear?"  
  
"Then you mean to leave soon?"  
  
"I do." he said, rising from his seat and looking toward the slowly westerning sun.  
  
"Tonight?"  
  
"No, I have ... another matter to which I wish to attend. Perhaps just before dawn." he said softly.  
  
Dumbledore frowned at what he saw in her eyes, but chose not to acknowledge it. She looked as though she was plotting something.  
  
"Very well." she said. "I suppose this will be good-bye ... for now."  
  
He smiled at her and stepped toward the window, looking out upon the castle grounds and the forest. Minerva stood behind him and pursed her lips as she waited for him to say something, but eventually losing herself in thought as remained silent and contemplative, until at last she felt a warm hand upon her shoulder.  
  
"Don't look so sad, my dear. There is always a chance that we will beat him." he said. "I am a better wizard than you think." he added, his eyes twinkling as he spoke.  
  
Minerva looked up at him with an incredulous expression upon her face and said, "But I've always thought of you as the best wizard I have ever known! How can you say that?"  
  
He chuckled and said, "I don't show off my powers as much as my contemporaries. I thought perhaps you did not know. Not that I like to brag ..."  
  
"Of course not." Minerva laughed, and she was amazed that she could still laugh.  
  
"It is time for you to meet Miss Weasley and Mister Vector, is it not?" he questioned suddenly.  
  
"I imagine so. They insisted we keep up the study group, you know. Vector is getting good marks for the first time in his life, and he wants to keep them." she chuckled.  
  
"Then this is good-bye, Minerva, and good luck with all you set about to achieve." he told her, holding out his arms to her.  
  
She embraced him warmly and said, "Thank you for everything, Albus."  
  
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A/N: My two words of French may be wrong. My mother tried to force me to learn French as a child (and we all know how well that must have worked out - not well at all).  
  
  
MK: Yeah, I think it would hurt quite a bit. I generally like villains too, but not so much the hardcore villains like Voldemort though (but I like Lucius Malfoy a lot *blushes*). Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Deidre: Thank you for the review!  
  
Child-of-the-Dawn: That happens to me all the time. I have to re-read stuff a lot. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Serenity Raye: I have to admit that I have seen someone write Dippet as a good headmaster (*cough* Freelancer *cough*), but I never got a really good impression of him from the brief bit in CoS. (I thought he was patronizing.) The thing about Dumbledore's nose goes back to the first chapter of PS/SS (and the fact that I can never see the forest for the trees): "his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice." Of course there are naturally occurring crooked noses, but still, it gives one pause. I'm glad you liked that part. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Freelancer: Thank you for the review!  
  
  



	15. April 30th, 1945

Chapter Fifteen  
  
April 30th, 1945  
  
  
  
The soft, padded paws of a gray tabby cat made very little sound in the empty corridors that night. It was well after midnight. She stole from shadow to shadow as she followed Professor Dumbledore into the dungeons of Hogwarts. Minerva in her Animagus form had been shadowing the professor for the better part of the night. She had firmly decided during dinner that she was not about to let Albus take on the Grindelwald alone, if that was truly what he was planning to do. And Gryffindors were not called reckless without cause.  
  
But she was surprised to find his steps leading them both into Slytherin territory. Even as a cat she shivered. That was the last place she wished to be found while in animal form. Minerva had heard rumors that the Slytherin students were often cruel to their pets and to animals of all kinds. Although she had never encountered evidence of this herself, it gave her cause to worry as she imagined that they would know her markings after so many months since she had become an Animagus. Not a nice thought at all. Nevertheless she continued following her dear mentor and friend into the depths of the castle.  
  
Minerva trailed cautiously after him until he reached the office of Professor Krohn where Albus knocked on the door and her ears pricked as she heard Krohn bid him to enter. She slipped closer to the door after Dumbledore entered. The door was ever-so-slightly ajar. Minerva felt slightly smug as she sat down outside and listened to the conversation within.  
  
"I have done all of the necessary research, Albus, and I must say I appreciate your knowledge of the arcane and mysterious. It has made for fascinating reading." said Krohn in slightly weary, but interested tones.  
  
"Then you can do it?" questioned Dumbledore.  
  
"Given some time ..."  
  
"Twenty-four hours?"  
  
"Perhaps a little more. But we have another matter to discuss: my fee."  
  
"Reynard! You have as much to gain as anyone." said Dumbledore very sharply.  
  
"Yes, of course I do. The revenge would be most sweet, and I do yearn for it. But I also know how much _you_ want _this_. If you manage the feat, and I do not by any means believe that you will, then your hands remain spotlessly clean in this matter. I know you have other duties and responsibilities to your colleagues aboard as well, but that part is worth quite a lot to you, isn't it?"  
  
"Perhaps it is." sighed Dumbledore. "Name your price."  
  
"My students ... My Slytherins ... They make so many mistakes. They choose the wrong paths ... Promise me, Albus, that if they ever come to you, desiring forgiveness, a second chance, that you will give it to them. I know that someday you will be in the position to do just that. You will be headmaster of this school." said Krohn.  
  
"You flatter me. But if it is ever in my power, I will do as you have asked. I would probably do so even if you didn't."  
  
"I thought so, but I like guarantees, and they say that you are a man of your word."  
  
"Then it is agreed?"  
  
"It is. I shall begin the preparations right away." said Professor Krohn.  
  
"Good luck."  
  
"Luck?" scoffed Krohn. "I don't need luck! I have skill. It is you who needs the luck tonight, Albus. And lots of it!"  
  
Minerva yawned softly and stretched, preparing to retreat at any moment, at any sign that Dumbledore was about to leave.  
  
"Well, what have we here?" said a low and unpleasant voice as an all-too-familiar Slytherin boy rounded the corner. Had Tom Riddle been standing there or had he just approached? She thought and hoped it was the latter.  
  
Minerva hissed softly and began backing away, afraid to turn her back on him to run. She just needed a little more distance.  
  
Tom drew his wand and smiled unwholesomely. Minerva realized that he believed that the office was empty. That they were alone down there. That she was, just as Krohn had told him, a 'helpless thing'. She breathed in deeply and yowled with all her might. In human form she might have stood up to Riddle, had she not be out after hours and in the middle of something too important to allow herself to be caught, but as a feline, she could hardly be expected to duel with him.  
  
Tom stepped back slightly at the horrible sound, but he raised his wand to cast a spell just an instant later; however, he was robbed of his chance as a robed figure burst from the office and tackled him. Minerva's eyes widened as she realized it was Professor Dumbledore. She took off up the corridor and out of the dungeons in a panic, hoping that she had not been seen or at least not recognized.  
  
"What the devil are you doing, man! Have you taken absolute leave of your senses?" questioned Krohn loudly, pulling Dumbledore off Riddle with an anger glare at both of them.  
  
"I wasn't doing anything." said Tom, quickly shoving his wand into his pocket.  
  
"Come off it, Riddle. What did you do to that cat?" questioned Krohn. "I have told you and your associates time and again not to mistreat the pets of other students ... or any other animals that may live in this castle." he added, shooting an unpleasant look at Dumbledore too.  
  
"I didn't do anything. I was merely going to chase it from our dungeons. I didn't like the look of it. I think I am well within my rights to remove mongrel animals from the halls of Slytherin house."  
  
Dumbledore drew himself up to his full height, but did not reply. He knew that Riddle was bating him.  
  
"That is quite enough. I have told you before about this sort of behavior. What kind of example are you setting for your peers? Not a very good one." said Krohn in measured tones. "Though I do wish that some people would refrain from getting into physical confrontations with _my_ students and would mind their own a little more closely." he added, looking at Dumbledore with a cold glint in his half-hidden eyes.  
  
"Yes, professor." said Riddle.  
  
"Noted." acknowledged Dumbledore, grateful that he had learned to control his temper years ago.  
  
"Back to the dormitories, Mister Riddle. It is very late." said his head of house in icy tones.  
  
Tom nodded mutely and walked away, straightening his robes as he went.  
  
"That is the one you are so worried about." said Albus bluntly.   
  
He had had suspicions about Tom Marvolo Riddle for quite sometime, but most of his colleagues treated the young wizard as something of a Golden Boy because of his brilliant marks, among other things. He wondered if Krohn shared his opinion.  
  
"One of many, but I don't think that he can be saved." sighed Krohn, who had kept a close watch on Riddle after hearing a younger student address him as 'my lord', which did not bode well to him.  
  
"You handle them well enough for a man who was never in their ranks." commented Dumbledore.  
  
"Thank you. It is not an easy task, though I imagine that the young lions, or perhaps more specifically the young lionesses, are quite a hand full in their own way." said Krohn with a grimacing smile.  
  
"We make do, I suppose."  
  
"Watch out for that one. Heaven knows I can't stand the sight of her, but I wish her no harm."  
  
"Kind sentiments. One would almost think ..."  
  
"Do not even complete that statement." said Krohn. "I have wandering eyes, and she has eyes only for one man. Even if he doesn't see it."  
  
"Why, Reynard, you will make a philosopher yet! Or a professor of Divinations." laughed Dumbledore.  
  
"I must begin brewing the potion. You have a date with destiny." said Krohn almost sourly, turning on his heel and walking back into his office.  
  
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A/N: No, I don't really think that (all) Slytherins torture small animals (I would be one and I don't), but, well, prejudice is prejudice, rivalry is rivalry.  
  
  
MK: Almost, but not quite ... Thank you for reviewing!  
  
lama: Very briefly as a child. I was naturally stubborn and contrary (my second word as a small child was 'no'). Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Freelancer: Well, one way of looking at it is that Albus wouldn't be coming back if he failed (and punishing a dead man isn't easy), but if he did return, Albus would have vanquished of a seriously dark wizard. So ... Thank you for the review!  
  
Desiree: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Whisper: Fawkes? Hmm ... I'm stumped. I haven't given the phoenix any thought. Did he have the bird fifty years ago? I've got to look into that. Wow. Well, Minerva is certainly no Hufflepuff *grins*. I didn't want to do a mellodramatic scene for when he left. I mean, Minerva was 'plotting something' and probably not very good at play-acting (I think that Gryffindors - over generalization alert - often wear their hearts on their sleeves), so Minerva couldn't exactly pull that off, hanky waving and so forth. But I see your point. And, of course, I agree that most readers (seeing no AU warning anywhere) are reasonably certain about what will happen (or rather what won't/can't, which is why fics from this era aren't as much fun). I'm glad you liked the nose thing. Thank you for the review!  
  
Michelle: I can't answer your questions (well, no surprise, right?), but I can say that the mental image provided by the phrase "lime-green-boxers-on-a-Weasley" will be with me for a long time. Group question answer: it didn't go very well, but I think it was because of technical issues. The question about Krohn is difficult to answer. I'm not sure what he would do. The man isn't spineless; he's just ... um, cautious and pessimistic. And, yes, this is going to Europe-centric. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Serenity Raye: I'm glad you liked the breeziness factor. Spring does seemed slightly neglected in the books now that I think about it. Of course, I don't really know as much as I would like about the climate of Scotland either. Thank you for the review!  
  
  



	16. April 30th, 1945 slightly later

Chapter Sixteen  
  
April 30th, 1945 - slightly later  
  
  
  
Minerva ran until she reached Dumbledore's office. There she paused, caught her breath, and twitched her whisks slightly. That had been close. No one was certain what Tom Riddle was capable of doing. There were rumors that he was trying to learn all that he could about the Dark Arts, and not for merely defensive purposes. She had heard that he knew some of the unforgivable curses and was willing to use them on animals and so forth for his amusement and that of his friends. She imagined that she had narrowly missed a first hand experience with one of those curses.  
  
Minerva knew that Albus would be returning to his office before he left the castle and hid herself accordingly. He had left his cloak there, and the night was growing cool. She also imagined that he had some letters and such to leave, but she didn't want to think about that. Minerva merely curled up behind a well-placed suit of armor and waited for her mentor to return.  
  
She also sincerely hoped that he wouldn't be checking the dormitories before he left. She had confided to Daniel and Trudy that she intended to do anything she could to help him. They would not be able to make excuses for her if she was out of bed at this hour, but they would not be worried, at least not until morning, and they would not give her away. Minerva could trust her house mates to keep a secret. It has always been said that Hufflepuffs were loyal, but she would take her fellow Gryffindors any day.  
  
  
Minerva's eyes were beginning to close when she heard the tread of familiar feet upon the stone floor of the castle. She was awake in an instant, watching Dumbledore as he walked up the stairs at the end of the corridor. The moon came from behind the clouds and the silvery light that shone through the high windows fell upon his face, bathing it in a cool glow. She sighed as Albus lifted his face and closed his eyes for a moment. Such a beautiful sight. Then he smiled and continued walking.  
  
She waited patiently as she listened to him rummaging around in his office. It was not long before he stepped back into the hall with that purple cloak of his draped over his shoulders. He closed and locked the door before setting off down the corridor again in the direction of the Entrance Hall. He was truly leaving.   
  
For an instant a certain pride in him filled her, and Minerva was grateful that she was a cat, for she experienced that emotion more clearly, more deeply in that form. It was almost so strong as the human emotion of love.  
  
Then she padded quietly after him, careful not to be seen.  
  
  
Professor Dumbledore left the castle silently, like a thief in the night, unaware of the small gray cat that haunted his footsteps as he crossed the grounds. Her feet did not make a sound on the grass and the path as she followed him in the direction of Hogsmeade and toward a place far enough from the castle to be free of its protective wards. He risked no light in the darkness, but she could see him quite well as she remained in the deepest shadows.  
  
When they reached the apparition point, Dumbledore sighed softly. She could see his breath upon the cool early morning air. She tensed, wondering if he would turn and take one last look at the castle above them. But he did not turn as he drew his wand from his robes. Then as he raised the instrument, she transfigured back into a human and pulled her own wand from her robes.  
  
Timing was everything, and Minerva McGonagall's was perfect. She latched on to Albus from behind, and they spoke at the same time.  
  
"_Apparate_!"  
  
It was a tricky and theoretical stunt the results of which she well knew could be dangerous and unpredictable. She was attempting to apparate in tandem with her mentor, going wherever he went and using his focus to transport them both. And the fact that she had never apparated before and had no idea where exactly they were going did not help matters.  
  
But Dumbledore was strong and pulled her with him. He had no choice really. He could guess who had pulled the stunt and couldn't leave her to be splinched or otherwise harmed, though perhaps it would have served her right.  
  
When they reappeared at his intended destination, Dumbledore yanked her around to face him with some force. She had the good sense not to smile or look smug as he shook her by the shoulders.  
  
"Minerva! Why? Do you realize what you've done?" he asked.  
  
She had seldom heard him sound so upset. She raised her head and could have sworn that there was fire in his eyes. Then she glanced around and realized that the fire was real, that they were standing in an alley between two smoldering buildings in a city that was in utter ruins. The smell of a great burning was in the air, and she could hear a most peculiar and disturbing rat-tat-tat sound somewhere in the distance. There were also infrequent rumbles from an even greater distance. She could not place the sounds.  
  
Dumbledore shook her again to get her attention.  
  
"I only thought ..."  
  
There was a loud kaboom from somewhere no quite so faraway.  
  
"We must find shelter while I sort this out." he told her, obviously finding some meaning in the strange sounds around them.  
  
Minerva looked around again as he released her with a quiet word of apology. She had given him a bad fright. She could understand that. She knew that he had not wanted her there. And yet there she was. She imagined that he was quite furious. In his place she would have felt the same way, but no matter the cost she could not have allowed him to face Grindelwald alone and unaided.  
  
"Follow me. I think we will be safe in one of these buildings for the moment. I must think." Dumbledore told her, getting his bearings. "I hope you're happy." he added in an irritated tone.  
  
There was another round of sharp, quick sounds a few city blocks away. She flinched slightly.  
  
"That's the sound of muggle weapons, isn't it?" Minerva questioned.  
  
"It is indeed." he said.  
  
She wasn't happy at all, she decided, but she had done what she thought was best. There was nothing else she could have done with a clear conscience  
  
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A/N: I had to reorganize a couple of chapters a bit. Next one is longer. Editing. Gack!  
  
  
Serenity Raye: I hinted a couple of times that Krohn was horrible womanizer. And Minerva was, I imagine, rather pretty when she was sixteen. How did Tom recognize Minerva? She had exotic markings (the spectacle markings around her eyes) and was registered. Everyone knew that she was an Animagus (see beginning of ch. 11). Krohn definitely knew by Albus' reaction. I think Minerva would be at the growing-cat/older kitten stage at this point (I'm just guessing). Cool question. And, yes, Krohn is Snape's potions' professor and head of house. And thank you for unleasing that plot bunny about their relationship upon me. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
MK: Yes. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Whisper: About how Albus knew the cat was Minerva ... I could always tell (as a kid when there were always cats in the house) which cat was meowing at night. For example, my cat (Buster) had a very sweet, intelligent meow. My mother's cat had a complaining, annoying, scratchy meow. It was always very easy to tell which cat was making the noise. As her transfigurations' professor, Albus probably had had Minerva practicing changing for him and so forth when he was avaiable and would have been familiar with her meow. Plus doesn't he have that reputation for near-omniscience? Your idea about Fawkes isn't cheesy. It's rather cute. Dumbledore chose to ignore the comment from his much younger colleague (for many reasons). It was kind of hard to miss. I suppose a related question would be how does Krohn know about her feelings for Dumbledore? He's a shrewd man and has keen powers of observation (not for nothing is he the head of Slytherin house). Thank you for the insightful questions and for reviewing!  
  
Freelancer: I didn't even think about your Lucius when I wrote that, but, wow, it kind of fits, I suppose. (I really love your Lucius by the way *hint, hint*). I'm glad you liked that conversation. Thanks for the review!  
  
Child-of-the-Dawn: Yep, I sure do. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
  



	17. April 30th, 1945 around daybreak

Chapter Seventeen  
  
April 30th, 1945 - around daybreak  
  
  
  
Minerva huddled in a sheltered corner in a building that Albus had informed her had been 'bombed out', though she wasn't entirely certain what he meant by that. She only knew that the building was a ruin and that she was cold. She had not thought to grab a cloak or a scarf before leaving Hogwarts. When had there been time? She rubbed her hands together to warm them and watch Albus pacing a few yards away.  
  
She had made things inadvertently more difficult for him. He now had to consider what would become of her. Minerva was not licensed to apparate. She couldn't return to Hogwarts alone. It was not safe to leave her where they were near the apparition point. Dressed in school robes, she would have difficulty explaining herself if caught by muggles. Most likely she would be shot. Albus could not live with that. He only had two choices: return her to Hogwarts and abandon his mission or take her with him. He knew that she would prefer the latter, but it was dangerous, almost as dangerous as leaving her.  
  
"Minerva, do you really want to come with me?" he asked her quietly, stopping and standing in front of her.  
  
She looked up at him with a very determined expression on her face and said, "Of course I do."  
  
"I suppose there is no use convincing you otherwise. My time is very limited. So I ask you again: are you certain, Minerva?"  
  
"Yes, Albus, I am quite certain. Because of him my parents and countless other witches and wizards are dead. I want to finish what they started. I want to see Grindelwald defeated." she said, clambering to her feet.  
  
"Then I will transfigure you a cloak from some of this debris, and we shall be on our way." Dumbledore told her.  
  
  
Albus certainly knew his transfigurations, she thought as she pulled the warm gray cloak closer around her shoulders with one hand, holding her wand aloft with the other as she followed her mentor down the street. They stayed in the shadows, trying not to attraction attention to themselves. The morning sky above them was overcast, threatening rain. The ground was already damp with dew and so cold that she fancied that she could feel it through her boots.  
  
Minerva could hear the sound and feel the reverberation of a distant rumbling, like a faraway earthquake or a slightly nearer dragon. There was a quieter sound too, that of the buildings settling, like sand pouring through an hourglass or a breeze through the cedars near her home back in Scotland. Here and there she could hear the slightly louder, though less frequent sound of roofs caving in or buildings collapsing from the strain. There was a plentiful amount of dust and ashes in the air, swirling in the breeze like desert sand and coating their robes. The air itself was heavy despite the cold, and she was not familiar with the smell in it. Slightly sulfurous, she mused, but with hint of other things, none of which were very pleasant.  
  
"What are those sounds?" she asked Albus after a particularly violent rumble.  
  
"Artillery." he replied.  
  
"You mean _more_ muggle weapons?" Minerva inquired.  
  
"As Thibault explained to me, and he is muggle-born, they are giant machines that fire large, exploding objects called shells. The effect is rather like a blasting spell, he says, though I cannot imagine a wizard being able to cast such a spell over so great of a distance." Dumbledore informed her.  
  
"Then those rumbles are the sound of the shells hitting something?"  
  
"Yes, I believe so." he nodded.  
  
Minerva shivered as she realized that they were walking in the direction of those sounds and that they would only become louder and closer.  
  
"Do you know anything about the muggle war? It isn't in the papers so much anymore because of ... our war."  
  
Albus glanced over his shoulder at her and said, "Thibault stays well-informed as he has relatives in the resistance movement. He mentions their war from time to time."  
  
"Does he know if it will be over soon?" she questioned.  
  
"He seems to think so. I must agree with him. Those sounds are that of this city being bombarded. When this place is conquered ... their war will be over." said Dumbledore.  
  
"And here we are in the middle of it." Minerva thought to herself as she followed him down an alley. He seemed to know where he was going, but she did not. "Albus, where are we going exactly?" she asked.  
  
"Grindelwald's lair, of course." answered Dumbledore.  
  
"And where is it?" asked Minerva with a hint of impatience in her voice.  
  
"According to Thibault, it is unfortunately close to the part of the city in which there is fighting, although he insisted that it should be possible to get there without a commotion."  
  
"He knew you would be doing this?"  
  
"No, Thibault doesn't think I have it in me. Won't he be surprised." Albus chuckled.  
  
  
They had been walking for hours. The distant rumbling sound of exploding shells was far more distinct and joined occasionally by a faint whistling noise that made Minerva cringe. She loathed that sound. She had always imagined the cry of the Banshee having exactly that sound.  
  
But there were far worse things to worry about now. She had glimpsed some of the bodies. Soldiers mostly in uniforms of varying color. Civilians in shoddy muggle clothing. Broken bodies half hidden in piles of rubble and debris. And the soldiers ... none of them were much older than she was. Hardly more than boys. She imagined that some had been in school and had left school because of the war. Dark blood stained the streets here and there. Minerva was horrified.  
  
She stayed very close to Albus as they walked. His eyes were troubled as he looked upon the destruction and carnage around them. He had seen much of the same in France and in border towns, though this city was so much larger that it all seemed unending. Devastation that reached out in every direction to the ends of the earth. It comforted him very little that almost none of it was caused by their war, by the wizarding war.  
  
  
Minerva and Albus had been moving through the city without incident for sometime when he stopped and gestured for her to do so as well. She saw a black robed figure pacing before the entrance to a bunker. It appeared as though they had arrived at their destination. And it was being guarded. She inhaled sharply as a second figure joined the first.  
  
"There will probably be more of them nearby." said Dumbledore in a low voice as they moved out of sight of the Dark Wizards and the entrance to the underground keep.  
  
"Do you have a plan?" she asked him.  
  
"We must dispatch the guards quickly and enter the lair."  
  
"Sounds simple enough." said Minerva.  
  
"Know any good curses?"  
  
"I am well-versed enough, I believe." she replied coolly, not betraying the very real nervousness and fear that she felt, as she adjusted her grip on her wand. Minerva admitted to herself that her knowledge of curses was theoretical at best, but she did know some good disarming spells and so forth.  
  
Her heart had never stopped pounding, not since she had apparated with her friend and mentor into this mess. Not even for one solitary minute since the whistling had started overhead. But her determination to help him never wavered. If it meant that she would die from a killing curse in a foreign city far from most of her friends and her home, then so be it. She was prepared. Albus during all their months of discussing the war had prepared her for what was to come, and she felt that he had prepared her quite well, though her hands were trembling just slightly.  
  
"Then there is no reason to linger here. We must join the battle." he told her.   
  
His eyes were like cold blue steel as they left their hiding place to face the sentries of Grindelwald's lair.  
  
  
The pair had the element of surprise on their side as they approached the bunker. With a single, powerful disarming spell, Albus managed to rob both wizards of their wands and hurl them against the concrete wall behind them. Minerva quickly followed with a speedy petrifying spell to which Albus added magical cords. The professor spun around and sought any sign of other Dark Wizards in the vicinity. There were none. He nodded to his protégé and gestured for her to stand watch while he moved their bound and petrified enemies out of sight.  
  
Minerva wiped the cold sweat from her eyes as she looked around, wand raised and ready. She had expected it to be much worse. They had been lucky. Perhaps luckier than they would ever know. Most of the Dark Wizards who stood watch outside their master's subterranean keep had gone to watch the muggle fighting on the far side of the city. Quidditch had not been played on the continent in almost five years, so watching the muggle war had become something of a vile hobby for many them, especially those who were too young to remember the last conflict or lived in areas too remote to see any of it first hand.  
  
When Albus had moved the fallen Dark Wizards out of plain view he gestured for her to continue her watch while he examined the entrance to the bunker for booby-traps and the like. She glanced at him for time to time as he swept his wand over the opening. He was being careful. Minerva could almost sense his caution. It was ironic to be doing something that was recklessly dangerous so very carefully. But it eased her nerves too. It confirmed his intention to complete the task, to destroy Grindelwald, and to leave alive, and that gave Minerva hope for both of them.  
  
"They must have just taken down the wards. One of them was going in, I believe." Dumbledore muttered to himself incredulously.  
  
"Then we can go inside?" asked Minerva, edging closer to the bunker.   
  
It was too quiet. Other than the occasional far off rumble or slightly nearer whistle and rumble, the area seemed suspiciously silent, and it was beginning to make her nervous again.  
  
"Of course. Grindelwald will be waiting somewhere down there." said Albus, gesturing into the cavernous mouth of the reinforced shelter. "I will lead, and you will watch our backs." he instructed.  
  
Minerva nodded without another word and followed him inside.  
  
  
The corridors were close and lit by electrical lights. Albus recognized the soft thrum of a generator in the air. Thibault had explained so many things to him, electricity being one of them. Minerva eyed the lights curiously, but did not allow them to distract her as she followed closely behind Dumbledore. The sound of the war being waged in the city above them was muffled by the thick walls. It was extraordinarily quiet and cold. Minerva could see her breath in the air.   
  
Albus glided soundlessly before her, looking to his left and right as they passed by side passages on their way to the innermost chambers of the lair. She stole furtive glances behind them as they trod soundlessly down the sloping and narrow corridor. No one was following them. No one was in their way as they reached an open steel doorway. An eerie orange light, torch light, streamed into the dim hallway. It seemed so out of place there. Wizarding things, magical torches and so forth, never meshed well with muggle things like the electric lighting.  
  
Albus turned to her and whispered softly in Minerva's ear, "Remain here. Let no one pass. Grindelwald awaits."  
  
She could only nod her understanding as he prepared to enter the inner sanctum of the keep to face the Dark Wizard himself.  
  
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A/N: I know. It's a cliffhanger. But I'm having trouble with the next bit. Erg!  
  
  
MK: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Child-of-the-Dawn: Thank you!  
  
Isis Malfoy: I'm glad you liked Dumbledore's reaction. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
lama: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Serenity Raye: I have a lot of trouble determining the rules for apparating/disapparating. I hope the next book lays out a few more rules to help with the speculation. Anyway, I did it this way because I didn't think a port key would work very well. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
  



	18. April 30th, 1945 sometime after noon

Chapter Eighteen  
  
  
April 30th, 1945 sometime after noon  
  
  
  
Grindelwald was a thin man some years younger than the transfigurations' professor. His eyes were almost coal black in color and hidden by heavy lashes. But nothing could hide the madness in those dark orbs. He had arrayed himself in muggle fashion as though an officer of the military, for though he fiercely hated muggle-born and mixed-blood wizards and witches he considered some muggles to be useful tools, often quite apt to his hand with the proper application of the Imperious curse. Grindelwald rose from a gilded chair and swept his wand out from a pocket as Dumbledore entered. An unholy light was in his eyes as he stepped away from his throne.  
  
"You. I know you. They have told me of the graying wizard with the spectacles. You have robbed me of many of my servants. You are English too, yes?" he questioned in a heavily accented voice.  
  
Dumbledore had planned to step into the room and begin firing disarming spells and curses at once. It was no more than Grindelwald deserved. Unfortunately, he found that he was having some difficulty in doing that. There was a seductive power in the madman's voice. Thibault had mentioned nothing of that ability. Perhaps few people consciously were aware of it, few among the living at least. Dumbledore adjusted his grip on his wand.  
  
"Albus Dumbledore." he said simply. It struck him as the height of madness to be thus conversing with a mass murderer. And yet there he was.  
  
"Grindelwald, Josef Wilhelm von Grindelwald." he said with a very stiff and very slight bow. "They have sent you here to kill me, yes?" he questioned in rather unnervingly civil tones.  
  
"I am here of my own will." answered Dumbledore.  
  
"Your friends have sent you here to die alone then?" he asked pleasantly.  
  
Minerva was watching and listening to them from just outside the doorway as she listened for any sound of Grindelwald's servants. A sense of alarm was growing in the pit of her stomach. Why wasn't Albus doing something? Why weren't they fighting? She looked at Albus' wand hand and realized immediately that there was magic at work. He was not even holding the instrument at ready. She edged closer to watch Grindelwald.  
  
"I did not come here to die." said Albus.  
  
Grindelwald leered at him and said, "Many of my loyal subjects have fled. Few can abide me now. Your visit is well timed, I think, but not well timed enough for you to contend with me." Raising his wand, Grindelwald added, "I believe I shall have a bit of entertainment first ... before I kill you."  
  
Dumbledore could not move as the Dark Wizard moved to cast a spell upon him, but as Grindelwald did so, a loud, high shriek filled the air and something heavy collided into the professor, jarring him from his stupor. Minerva McGonagall had shoved him hard, knocking him out of the way of Grindelwald's spell. The force of it scarcely grazed Albus, merely winding him for a moment as he tumbled to the ground, which was no doubt far from the Dark Wizard's intended effect.  
  
"Stupid girl!" Grindelwald roared at her as Albus rolled to his feet. "_Crucio_!" he screamed at her with a wild and insane look in his eyes.  
  
Minerva had never known such fierce and unabating pain before in her life. She could not even scream as she flailed helplessly upon the floor. The world became dark and faraway as the severe pain began to overwhelm her. Then it ended suddenly. Her body was still on fire with the lingering aftermath of the agony, and she lay stunned upon the floor, scarcely able to think or move.  
  
"_Expelliarmus_!" Minerva heard Albus cry as her breath came in ragged gasps. She lifted her head from the floor to see Grindelwald block the spell with practiced ease.  
  
"You must do better than that, old man!" scoffed the Dark Wizard.  
  
Dumbledore flung a silencing charm at Grindelwald, who parried it and grinned wickedly.  
  
"You seek to stop the power of my voice!" he laughed, pointing his wand at Dumbledore, seeming to contemplate with malicious relish what spell he would next use.  
  
Minerva had witnessed her mentor duel before when she was just a third year student. She had recalled his penchant for disarming spells, which was much imitated among the older students and would be for some years to come. She had learned a few such spells herself. But what truly mattered was that even from the floor she could see it in his eyes. Albus was going to go for Grindelwald's wand a second time. She moved slowly, clutching her own wand tightly in her hand. They had a better chance if they acted together.  
  
"_Exarmo_!" she cast with all her might.  
  
And at the same instant, Albus made a second go of his favorite, "_Expelliarmus_!"  
  
Grindelwald's wand flew from his hand and into a far corner of the room. The Dark Wizards bellowed in pain, anger, and terror.  
  
Scrambling to her elbows, Minerva shouted, "_Stupefy_!"  
  
Grindelwald fought the spell, but went to his knees, scrambling on all fours toward his lost wand.  
  
"_Stupefy_!" yelled Dumbledore, casting the stunning spell with all of his strength.  
  
Grindelwald collapsed instantly with a barely audible groan. The professor immediately cast a binding spell upon him. Together they had defeated Grindelwald.  
  
Minerva rose shakily to her feet. Her entire body was trembling with the aftereffects of the Cruciatus curse, the intolerable pain of which still lingered. She felt very nauseated, but as she looked at unconscious and bound Grindelwald, she felt a certain thrill of triumph too.  
  
"You did it." she said breathlessly, hardly mindful of her own contribution as she looked at Dumbledore. Pride shone in her eyes.  
  
"We, Minerva." he corrected tiredly as he retrieved Grindelwald's wand.  
  
Professor Dumbledore's face hardened as he examined the instrument of magic before taking it in both hands and snapping it. He tossed the splintered pieces away and rubbed his eyes.  
  
A long bench ran along the wall behind him, facing the throne of the Dark Wizard. Albus sat down heavily upon it. He could still hardly believe it was over. His gaze turned to Minerva.  
  
"Come and sit." he said, gesturing for her to join him.  
  
Minerva obeyed without question. Her legs were unsteady. It seemed like an excellent idea, vastly preferable to finding herself back on the hard concrete floor again. She frowned as she noticed a few small cuts upon her mentor's cheek and some bruising upon his jaw from his fall.  
  
"May I?" she asked, touching his face with trembling fingers.  
  
"It is not necessary, but you may." he conceded. "I am terribly sorry about what you have endured here today, Minerva." Dumbledore said as she began saying healing charms over him.  
  
Minerva swallowed hard as he lightly touched her hair, brushing it away from her unnaturally pale face.  
  
"I never knew anything could be ..." she said, coughing quietly.  
  
"You know now why it is unforgivable, do you not?"  
  
"Yes." she answered.  
  
Dumbledore removed his hand from her hair and rested it upon his knee, tightening his grip upon his wand. He did not think it was safe to put it away. Looking at Grindelwald, he wondered if he should go through with the plan or destroy him there, if he should just get it over with. Would anyone condemn him for snuffing out the life of such a fiend?  
  
"No, he must _pay_ for what he has done. Simply killing him won't accomplish that. Thibault, Reynard, and Alastor have all agreed." Albus thought silently.  
  
"We must imprison him." mumbled her mentor absently. He turned and smiled softly at Minerva. "We will imprison this foul thing with other creatures whose natures are also utterly dark." he said.  
  
Minerva glanced at the shards of Grindelwald's wand, wondering what manner of evil he had done with it, how many Unforgivables he had cast, how many people had killed himself. She nodded and trembled all over that very thought. Whatever Albus believed was just, she would agree with. No punishment could be harsh enough for his evil deeds.  
  
"You were so brave, Albus, when you walked in here to face him. I don't think I have ever seen anything like it nor will I again." said Minerva quietly, wiping the blood from his face with the sleeve of her robe.  
  
His eyes did not twinkle as she looked into them. They seemed haunted. She wasn't sure if his beautiful blue eyes would ever twinkle again. They had never seemed so serious as they did at that moment. Minerva touched his cheek and felt incredible sorrow on his behalf. If only she could make it better again. If only she could lift the weight that remained upon him even in victory. She leaned closer and tenderly kissed him upon the lips. Very gently she kissed him at first, and she felt his lips respond beneath hers. Then he suddenly moved away. There was surprise in his eyes as Minerva opened hers again.  
  
"We must be going, Minerva. It would no do for us to be found here." he said.  
  
She nodded in agreement and hid her disappointment and embarrassment well. It had been a very foolish, impulsive thing to do.  
  
"I should never have kissed him." she thought.  
  
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A/N: I rewrote the duel scene I think something like eight times. That was the best I could do (I should watch more action movies or something). And I suppose I should mention my fondness for J.R.R. Tolkien's character Saruman from LotR - he inspired my version of Grindelwald a little bit (the voice thing).   
  
  
Child-of-the-Dawn: Fluff? Erm, I'm thinking not very much, if any. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Whisper: Remember that Minerva is sixteen and had never seen war close up before (bodies, carnage, the noise, the duel). When I wrote the other story ("Another World"), I was not a big Albus and Minerva fan - I was just getting into it. Then I became obsessed with a subplot (this story), but I was locked into the timeline of the original. So ... I understand why someone devoted to the 'ship might be displeased with portions of the story line. But, I will do much better next time. *sighs* I wish I had a job. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
MysticSorceror: *blushes* Thank you very much!  
  
MK: Thanks for the review!  
  
lama: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Inca: The description of the city ravaged by war was inspired by a movie that I watched in one of my German language classes (_Die Mörder sind unter uns_). Having never seen anything like this myself, nor having any relatives that served in Europe during the war, I used that (and my poor memory of my history classes) as a guide. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
  
My next update may be slow due to another writing project. But rest assured that this is not quite the end. Not yet.  
  
  
  



	19. April 30th, 1945 in the evening

Chapter Nineteen  
  
April 30th, 1945 in the evening  
  
  
  
Darkness was settling over the hills and forest around Hogwarts when Albus and Minerva returned with their prisoner. The journey had not been easy. It had required much from both of them to transport him so far unwillingly. Minerva moved Grindelwald along by the power of the Mobilicorpus spell while Albus held his wand ready for any sign of mischief from the powerful Dark Wizard. Grindelwald's eyes rolled crazily. Madness had finally taken over his entire mind. But still Minerva was afraid of him, and Albus had not let his guard down. No one wanted to take a chance that he could manage wandless magic or anything else equally as dangerous.  
  
They had waited until after nightfall to bring the wizard to the castle and slipped unnoticed into Hogwarts and into the dungeons with their prisoner. Dumbledore did not wish to be seen. Minerva could not blame him. Whatever Albus intended to do with Grindelwald, it was surely best that it be done in secrecy.  
  
A young and handsome Ministry Auror named Alastor Moody was waiting for them in the most secluded part of the dungeons with Professor Reynard Krohn. The potions' master loomed over a bubbling cauldron, adding ingredients and paying no attention to anything but his craft. The potion that he was brewing seemed quite complex judging by the books on the nearby stands and the interest in the eyes of his companion.  
  
She was surprised to see an Auror there, though she recognized Moody from the class of 1940. He had been one of the best and brightest of Slytherin house. No doubt he was working with the Aurors in France when not on duty and had been summoned by Dumbledore just prior to their adventure.  
  
Albus quietly instructed her to put Grindelwald in the corner of the room farthest from the Auror and the professor while he had a discussion with his colleagues. She did exactly as he asked. If she felt a twinge of pride at being given the task so readily, she could hardly be blamed.  
  
She could not hear their conversation. They spoke in hushed tones, hesitating glances at Grindelwald from time to time.  
  
Minerva thought she could see Alastor fingering the bright blade of a knife hidden in the folds of his heavy and hooded robes. She did not like the look in his small dark eyes at all. It was not a look that one often found in the eyes of good and honest men. She believed for an instant that Moody was considering cutting Grindelwald's throat, and enjoying it. While conceding that the Dark Wizard thoroughly deserved any punishment that might be meted out that night, that gaze was nonetheless unwholesome and somewhat revolting. It was difficult to believe that Albus kept company with men like that, who gave a bad reputation to Aurors everywhere.  
  
Minerva returned her full attention to her charge and tried not to think about what would happen next. She didn't want to think about it. She didn't want to know. She had done her part and that was that.  
  
"They will see me dead. But others will come. Always more." chortled Grindelwald insanely. His voice had lost its power as madness controlled him.  
  
"More?" questioned Minerva.  
  
"That which your kind had named evil ... it does not die. It cannot. It is immortal. It is forever." he said as his eyes grew unfocused and a disturbing grin spread over his features.  
  
When Albus returned to that corner, he laid a reassuring hand upon her shoulder. She knew that he could feel her trembling beneath her dirty and somewhat blood besmirched school robes. The day had been long and horrific, draining her of almost all of her strength and courage. Albus' eyes were sad as he looked at her, sad and incredibly knowing. He understood what the conflict had taken out of her and from her, and he did not believe that it would stop there. She had so much with which she would be forced to live: the carnage of the muggle war, bearing the agony of the Cruciatus curse, and witnessing and taking part in the downfall of the most terrible wizard of their age. So much for one so very young.  
  
Minerva did not lower the wand she had pointed at Grindelwald, an incoherently mumbling form bound by magical cords. She wanted to continue to be strong and brave for Albus. She wanted him to be proud of her. Minerva didn't realize that he was already proud of her and would be for as long as they lived. She had earned every word of praise, every kindly thought that he had ever had for her and so much more. Albus wanted to sing her praises then and there and tell her, finally tell her what feelings he held in his heart for her, but there was no time.  
  
"Professor Krohn is almost ready to begin. I would like you to leave now, Minerva." he said in a low voice in her ear.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"You've seen so much. I want to protect you from witnessing this at least."  
  
"You're going to kill him." she said. It was a statement, not a question.  
  
"No, we are going to send him into the Founder's prison world."  
  
Minerva gasped. She was unable to stop herself. It was a horrible fate and perhaps a just one, but she had not expected to hear Albus say those words. Grindelwald would be sent into imprisonment with demons who had been banished by the Founders. It was a mirror realm, or so they said, filled with nameless horrors and little chance of survival or escape, especially for a wizard without a wand.  
  
"It is the punishment that has been agreed upon. It is for the best." Albus told her.  
  
"I understand."  
  
"Then return to your dormitory, Minerva, and try to sleep. You have been a great help tonight. I could not have done any of this without you. I am grateful for your assistance."  
  
"Thank you, Albus." she had said, finally lowering her wand.  
  
As Minerva left the dungeons, she could hear the cries of Grindelwald as he realized what was to become of him, and she ran the rest of the distance to Gryffindor Tower despite her weariness to escape those terrible, inhuman sounds.  
  
She slipped unnoticed into her dormitory and prepared for bed though the trembling had not ceased. Her body was weary beyond understanding, but her mind was filled with confused and disjointed thoughts about the things that she had seen. She wished that she had access to a dreamless sleep potion, anything to make her mind stop spinning and simply allow her to sleep. Minerva could feel it. She would not be able to sleep easily for some time. And how would she be able to explain it all to her friends? To Vector and Trudy, who would be eager. To Poppy and Agatha, who would be curious. How would she ever get them to understand? Perhaps it would be best to say nothing.  
  
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A/N: If some of this is vaguely (okay, really) familiar, I did borrow quite liberally from the first story ("Another World") to maintain consistent dialog. Oh, and this is the brief part that might seem strange to anyone who didn't read "AW". Sorry about that.  
  
  
MK: What does Albus think? The poor man has so much on his mind ... Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Michelle: Thanks!  
  
lama: Thank you for the review!  
  
Whisper: I definitely want to write another AD/MM story - a fluffier, happier timeline with wedding bells and maybe kids. But that might take some time. I'm expunging all of my inner darkness and angst at the moment *chuckles bitterly*. Why wasn't Grindelwald guarded? People who stayed in his presence too long often wound up dead (referencing Krohn's dead siblings, various other remarks to this effect, and Grindelwald's statement: "Many of my loyal subjects have fled. Few can abide me now." - even his followers were terrified of being around him). And, of course, Grindelwald has been 'mad' since mid-December, so that's more than five months for him to become really unhinged. But I do see your point. About Grindelwald's accent ... There is actually a place in Switzerland called Grindelwald (and I don't know very much about it, except that it exists and it's in the German-speaking part of the country), so ... if he were by some chance actually from there, would he have a German accent (language) or a Swiss accent (country/nationality)? I get lost in the details. I am very glad you liked the kiss. Just one of those occasions when the characters seemed to know what to do (and all I had to do was type it). I will endeavor not to end this story in a cringeworthy (cool word!) fashion. Thank you for the review!  
  
Child-of-the-Dawn: Yes, he did ... a little. Circumstance can be a wonderful thing. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Metallicafangirl: Whoo-hoo! A Sephiroth fan! He was so awesome! Sorry ... couldn't control myself. Thanks for the review!  
  
GEM: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
  



	20. May 1st, 1945

Chapter Twenty  
  
May 1st, 1945  
  
  
  
Minerva found herself walking along the path that connected Hogwarts with Hogsmeade. It was almost pitch dark. There were no stars overhead to guide her steps. She wondered why she didn't just take her Animagus form to see better. Then she wondered why she was there at all, walking away from the castle in the dead of night.   
  
Then Minerva spotted a man moving through the shadows before her, neither near nor faraway, but simply there. She knew that she was following him and quickened her steps. Something about this seemed both familiar and different. It was unpleasant and eerie too. She felt very anxious, almost afraid as she passed through the entrance to the school and continued after him as he exited the grounds, squinting to determine his identity.  
  
"It must be Albus." she decided, growing more calm and less fearful. "I must be following Albus.  
  
When they had reached the edge of school grounds and the point from which people often apparated, he stopped and removed his wand from his within his robes. Minerva knew that he was going to apparate. She leapt and caught him from behind.  
  
But then she realized that this was not Albus Dumbledore. This was a man with a sinister, insane smile and beady eyes. It was Grindelwald. He flung her to the ground and stood over her, holding his wand aloft in preparation to cast a spell.  
  
"_Avada_ ..." he began.  
  
  
Someone was shaking her by the shoulders, but Minerva didn't want to open her eyes. She was afraid that _he_ would be there, leering down at her and preparing to use the killing curse. Cool water splashed upon her face. She gasped sharply and wrenched her eyes open. Trudy and Daniel were standing one upon either side of her bed and looking positively pale with worry. The other girls of her year could be heard talking quietly and anxiously from across the room. What was Daniel doing there, she wondered absently. He wasn't allowed in their dormitory unless it was an emergency.  
  
"Minerva, you were screaming. Tell us what's the matter." said Trudy with wide and concerned eyes.  
  
"I was what?" she mumbled, sitting up and pulling the covers around herself. It was so cold, and Daniel was looking at her in a very odd fashion.  
  
"Screaming. You woke everyone." Vector informed her.  
  
"I'm sorry." she said, rubbing her eyes. "Can I go back to sleep?" That was the only thing she could think to say to them. She wasn't in any position to answer their questions, which she knew that they had.  
  
"Minerva!" said Trudy in an admonishing tone. "I think we deserve to know ..."  
  
"Can it wait until morning, Trudy? I missed out on one night's sleep. I don't want to make it two." said Minerva.  
  
Vector frowned, realizing that she was being deliberately evasive.  
  
"I will have to inform Professor Dumbledore." he warned her.  
  
"I would rather you didn't."  
  
"Then tell us what's happened." Vector urged.  
  
"I don't want to talk about it." she said firmly.  
  
"Suit yourself." he said, frowning even harder. "Everyone back to bed." ordered Vector, exchanging glances with Trudy Weasley.  
  
Minerva had been missing all the day before. They had presumed that she had managed to go with Dumbledore to the continent. What had happened that was so terrible that she woke up screaming and would not tell her best friends why? Vector for one shuddered to think. Minerva wasn't faint-hearted, not by any stretch of the imagination. She was one of the most dauntless people he had had the pleasure of knowing. So why this?  
  
  
Minerva lay awake in the darkness for a long time after her roommates had gone back to sleep. She could hear Trudy softly snoring in the far corner of the room and the tick of someone's magical clock in another part of the dormitory. She was incredibly sleepy and bone tired, but she could not stand to shut her eyes. She could see his face in her mind. The madness in his eyes not at all concealed by his dark lashes and heavy eyelids. The twisted facial expressions that changed from grimaces to leering grins, pulling his lips thin across his teeth.   
  
The images would not go away, and interspersed between them were scenes from the city in ruins. Bodies. Devastation. More corpses. Uniforms. Shell casings littering the streets. Blood and ruin. Carnage and destruction. And him sitting like a king upon a thrown, unconcerned and removed, and yet in the middle of it all. Everything she had witnessed tormented her in the stillness and silence of the night.  
  
Tears ran from the corners of Minerva's eyes. She knew that none of it would be forgotten. Every image would remain clear and present in her mind until the day she died. And perhaps even beyond. The horror that she felt was very deep and almost consuming. How could any of that be forgotten? She had experienced one terribly real nightmare and felt a cold shiver as she realized that it would not, could not be the last.  
  
And she knew then that she no longer wished to be an Auror, to follow in her brave and noble parents' footsteps. She knew that she didn't have the stomach for such things. And what was more, she didn't want to. Minerva closed her eyes briefly, imagining herself in her twenties or thirties and in an Auror's robes. She saw herself pull an intricate little dagger from within her clothing and whet its blade. She thought of the look in Moody's small, dark eyes and saw the same look in her own. She shuddered and pulled her knees up. It was just as horrific as everything else. That was not what she wanted to become, a vengeance- and blood-thirsty witch who found some sort of perverse pleasure in killing, even if that killing could be justified.  
  
What would become of her then? Who would want or accept her now? She perceived herself as being damaged beyond hope of repair, schooled now in too much darkness and horror to be normal again. She knew too much, had seen too much.  
  
"If only I had not gone with him." she thought.   
  
Then Minerva felt ashamed. Her beloved mentor and dearest friend might have died without her assistance. Whatever the consequences ... she had done what was right. His life was worth much more to her than her own happiness or even her own life.  
  
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she remembered the kiss. It was the only good thing that had happened to her since the beginning of this miserable affair. If only he had returned her affections ... If only Albus felt the same way ... If only they could be together ... Then none of this would matter. It could be overcome perhaps. But he didn't. He had returned the kissed, but then he had pulled away so suddenly. Even acknowledging that her timing wasn't the best, Minerva could only feel miserable and disconsolate as she closed her eyes.  
  
"If only he loved me, as I love him." she thought sleepily.  
  
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A/N: *winces* I don't think that turned out like I had hoped.  
  
  
stoneygem: Moody as a Slytherin was not my idea. The credit for that goes to the brilliant writer Ozma. She convinced me. I can't see him in any other house now. I never knew that about the Swiss. Very interesting. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Metallicafangirl: Yep, that would be kind of nice. Thanks for the review!  
  
Child-of-the-Dawn: Not all villains can be charming. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Serenity Raye: The Moody question ... I should have anticipated that. First an assumption must be made. Barty Crouch did a perfect imitation of Alastor Moody (who is one of my favorite characters even thought that makes no sense). So anything he did (case in point: the amazing bouncing ferret) could easily have been attributed to the way Moody really behaved. Minerva had no problem believing that Moody could punish a student by transfiguration and what probably amounted to a good beating. Humiliating and beating up a fourteen-year-old boy in front of his peers was something he would do. Why do I feel like this (as it pertains to his character) would bother/scare Minerva? Because I think Minerva is a very nice person. What a long-winded and mildly nonsensical explanation! And, no, I don't have any plans for destroying all evil forever. That would be weird. Thank you very much for reviewing!  
  
Sanguine Quill: Learning how to write something longer than a couple thousand words took a long time. I shudder whenever I look at the stuff I wrote last spring. Thanks for the review!  
  
Michelle: Thank you!  
  
  



	21. May 7th, 1945

Chapter Twenty-one  
  
May 7th, 1945  
  
  
  
The days and nights were not easy for Minerva after those first nightmare-ridden and half-sleepless hours between the dusk and dawn. She refused to speak of what had happened even after _The Daily Prophet_ published rumors that the Grindelwald had been defeated by Albus Dumbledore. Her close friends chose to honor her silence at the request of their head of house. Minerva didn't care about the glory and said as much to Dumbledore when they perused the paper in his office one afternoon. She didn't care about the recognition or fame, only that the conflict was over and done. She could not sleep and could hardly eat, but what of it? The wizarding world was safe. Albus was alive and well, although not enjoying the attention very much. She had the impression that he had received a stern dressing down from Headmaster Dippet that would affect his career for many years to come.  
  
Then Minerva finally realized what she needed to do. It was so simple. She needed someone to cast a memory charm on her and make her forget that any of it had happened. It would be so easy to forget everything with the simple aid of magic. She could return to her happy and comfortable life and enjoy her last days at Hogwarts before the summer holiday was to begin. Without those memories she could perhaps even continue with her career plans after her next and final year as a student. Minerva believed that she had, by helping in her mentor's campaign against Grindelwald, done her part in the fight against the darkness. Therefore, she reasoned, she had earned this meager amount of compensation. And perhaps she truly had.  
  
  
After transfigurations class that day, when all the other students had filed out of the classroom, Minerva approached Professor Dumbledore. Her eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, and every day Vector and Weasley informed him that something was wrong with Minerva and pressed him to do something to help her or at least tell them what was wrong so that they could do something. He listened to them patiently, but told them nothing. Minerva wanted it that way, though he could not for the very life of him understand why.  
  
"Albus, I would like to ask you to do something for me." she said in very determined tones.  
  
He looked up from his desk and over the rims of his spectacles and said, "You only need ask, my dear."  
  
"Put a memory charm on me, Albus." said Minerva bluntly, inclining her chin just slightly and trying so hard to sound brave and sensible about the whole affair.  
  
"Minerva, you don't know what you're asking." he said, walking around the desk. "This isn't something to be done lightly or capriciously."  
  
"I know, but I am afraid I shall go mad if you don't, and I would not ask if I weren't certain about it." she said stubbornly.  
  
"I ... I don't like to see you suffer, but perhaps if you just gave it a little longer, allowed yourself time to heal and to move on naturally." he suggested, putting a gentle hand upon her shoulder.  
  
"I can't sleep. I can't eat. I can't hardly think." she whispered as her courage wavered. "The things I saw ..."  
  
"You handled yourself very well, Minerva, and you have every right to be proud of your conduct." he said.  
  
"Just do this one thing for me. Please?"  
  
"You will forget everything we did. The good and the bad. Everything ..." he warned her with regret in his eyes.  
  
She looked into his eyes in surprise as he lightly touched her lips. The kiss she had given him ... he was saying that he wanted her to remember that. But he had hardly even returned it. Why should it matter to him? She certainly did not want to forget it. The kiss was her first, and she had kissed the man that she loved. But what was that to him?  
  
Albus smiled softly at her. It had not meant so much to him at the time. So much was happening. The shock of defeating Grindelwald, of living through the experience, was much greater than that of her kiss. He wished, in vain it seemed, that he could turn back time just a little bit and truly kiss her as she deserved to be kissed. He had half a mind to do so then and there in hopes of changing her mind and because he truly wanted to kiss Minerva. But would even that sway her? He was not certain.  
  
"Then I must forget them both, but ... I will still look at you in the same way." she managed. Her mind was made up, and there was no changing it.  
  
"Very well." he said with a soft sigh, gesturing toward his chair. "Sit down and I will do what is asked of me."  
  
It was a quietly symbolic gesture. The chair behind his desk was to him as Grindelwald's throne had been to the Dark Wizard. It was the one from which he sometimes taught and at which he judged all the efforts of his students. Minerva took a seat knowing this and understanding the gesture. He was treating her as a peer and an equal.  
  
"It isn't going to be a strong charm. I mean for it to be broken someday when you are strong enough, when you are ready." Albus told her, brushing errant strands of sable black hair from her face.   
  
"That will be fine." she agreed with a trembling smile.  
  
Albus tucked her under the chin as he drew his wand. He wanted to persuade her to wait. He would have said anything necessary to change her mind, but he knew Minerva McGonagall. There was no woman half so stubborn in all of the world. Her will was one of adamant. If only she were not so young and so foolish ... The trade she was making would never seem equitable to him, but it was her memory and her decision.  
  
He pointed his wand at her and spoke softly, but firmly, "_Obliviate!_"  
  
Her face relaxed and became calm and less strained. Albus touched her cheek lightly, watching her eyes become unfocused and grow slightly bleary.  
  
"Minerva? Are you all right?" he questioned.  
  
"Albus?"  
  
"That's right." he said, moving away as she blinked a few times and the bleariness faded.  
  
"Whatever am I doing here?"  
  
"You were just on your way to your next class, I believe." he answered, tucking his wand away and helping her from the chair.  
  
"Next class, right." she agreed, shaking her head to clear it.  
  
"Will I see you this evening, Minerva?" he inquired as she gathered her books and things from her desk where she had left them.  
  
"I don't know, Albus. I am feeling rather tired. Could we have afternoon tea tomorrow perhaps?" asked Minerva.  
  
"Of course." he agreed before sending her off to class.  
  
Putting that charm on his young friend was one of the most difficult things he had ever done. It nearly broke his heart to know that Minerva would not be able to remember her own finest hour, in which she, a mere sixth year student had stood up to the most powerful and deadly Dark Wizard of their day and had saved her professor's life, and would not even remember her first kiss. He knew what it had been and how special. A very small part of him was glad that she would not remember the horrors of war or the Cruciatus curse. But he wondered if the trade could be called fair by any stretch of the imagination. Only time would truly tell.  
  
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A/N: Stay tuned for the epilogue.  
  
  
MK: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Whisper: Everyone had problems with ff.net earlier in the week, myself included ... So frustrating! Grindelwald, I think, might be a village or something in Switzerland. I still haven't figured that out yet. I would love to live in a place called 'Voldemort'. That would be cool (weird too). I had to make Moody handsome. I just _had_ to. If he was ugly to begin with ... getting all scarred up might be seen as a favor (as it would detract from the natural ugliness). Um, have I admitted that I'm shallow yet, 'cause it's about time. I am desperately trying not to write another one of these (unrequited, this timeline stories), and it is taking all of my energy not to do it. So I'm looking for a fluffy (requited love) idea to latch onto at the moment. I'm glad you liked the nightmare. Thanks for the review!  
  
Michelle: Thank you for the review!  
  
Child-of-the-Dawn: Thanks!  
  
  



	22. June 1946 epilogue

Chapter Twenty-two  
  
June 1946 (epilogue)  
  
  
  
Albus and Minerva were having a cup of tea together again. Tomorrow she would be boarding the train that would take her away from school. Her last full day at Hogwarts was coming to a close. She smiled at Albus across the little table by the window and glanced at the starry late evening sky outside. A shooting star fell to earth, entitling her to a wish. She sipped her tea and thought of a good one. Minerva's eyes fell upon her friend and professor who was staring thoughtfully into his tea cup.  
  
"I wish that he could fall in love with me as I have with him." she silently wished, setting the cup down with a soft clink. But she felt rather certain that it would never happen. She was only his student, his favorite perhaps, and his friend, but hardly anything more.  
  
"I have been authorized to offer you a job here once you have graduated. The headmaster believes that I should have a teaching assistant and possibly train them to be my replacement when the time comes. What do you say, Minerva?" Albus questioned.  
  
She raised her eyebrows as he made the offer. He had said that he had news for her, good news actually, and that certainly qualified. She scarcely needed to think about the offer. For some reason becoming an Auror gave her an uncanny feeling of impending doom, though she could not understand why. Minerva chalked it up to the untimely deaths of her Auror parents.  
  
"I was planning to become an Auror, but ... I changed my mind. This is an unexpected surprise and a relief. I was very concerned that I would not have a career after I left Hogwarts. I am very happy to accept your offer. Thank you, Albus." she said with a smile.  
  
"Excellent. I am glad to hear that, Minerva. I didn't want to lose you." said Dumbledore.  
  
"Oh, Albus! You know I would have kept in touch, no matter where life took me!" she laughed, reaching across the table and squeezing his hand. "You are one of my dearest friends!" she added.  
  
He smiled softly and thought of the events of the previous year, especially the ones that Minerva couldn't remember. She had not broken through the memory charm yet, and he had begun to doubt whether she would anytime soon.  
  
"And you are mine." he told her.  
  
"I was so worried about leaving school ..." she started to say.  
  
"Really? Why is that?"  
  
"I've told you that I don't want to be an Auror like my parents were, even after talking with Mister Moody a few months ago." she explained, giving a tiny, barely perceptible shudder.  
  
Albus noticed it and raised an eyebrow slightly. That had been his own idea. Dumbledore hoped that by talking with Alastor, Minerva might renew her interest in the field of magical law enforcement after her sudden change of heart regarding her plans for the future, which was unconsciously spurred, he assumed, by their little adventure that she could not remember. But Moody was perhaps not the best spokesman for his profession.   
  
Then the idea of Albus having a teaching assistant had been proposed, surprisingly enough by Professor Krohn, who unlike Albus remained in Headmaster Dippet's good graces.  
  
"Yes, someone to keep an eye on him." Dippet had mumbled, oblivious to the part Minerva had played in the defeat of Grindelwald. The man's powers of observation were obviously slipping.  
  
Of course, Krohn was not prone to acts of altruism, but he did feel a certain debt to Minerva McGonagall ... for many things. It could not be doubted that he had kept things from the headmaster and that had served everyone quite well, not to mention Krohn's own personal amusement and delight in the intrigue of it all.  
  
"That sort of service isn't for everyone," Dumbledore told Minerva with a smile, "though I must say that you would have done very well."  
  
"And I believe that you would have excelled at it too." she chuckled.  
  
"Oh, really?"  
  
"You did single-handedly defeat Grindelwald." she pointed out, looking at him with pride shining in her dark eyes.  
  
"Not single-handedly ..."  
  
"Too modest for your own good!" Minerva laughed.  
  
"I could never have done it without you." he said quite earnestly.  
  
Minerva looked at him with a quizzical expression and said, "My moral support? Well, you deserved all the help you could find, Albus. I imagine that his defeat will be considered one of your greatest accomplishments."  
  
"Indeed?" he questioned.  
  
"Of course. I have already heard talk that you being considered one of the greatest wizards of our age."  
  
"I must remember not to let that go to my head." he chuckled.  
  
Minerva set her cup aside and said, "I should go soon. I have packing to do."  
  
"Have you any particular plans for the summer? Your rooms here can be ready in a few weeks if you so desire ..."  
  
"I am planning to stay with my aunt and uncle in Glasgow for a while. Then I am returning to the family home. I have some things that I should probably put in order. You know how it is ..."  
  
"Yes, it will be difficult, I am sure." he nodded, noticing the sadness in her eyes.  
  
"And you?"  
  
Dumbledore looked out the window with a mysterious expression in his twinkling blue eyes. The twinkle had been slow to return, but after a year, it had. He wanted to ask Minerva to spend the start of the summer holidays with him at his house in the country and then return to Hogwarts with him for the rest of the summer. They could sit out by the lake or venture to Hogsmeade. They could go to the library together or just enjoy the peace and quiet. So many things.  
  
"I don't have any special plans, Minerva. I hope you have a wonderful time with your relatives." he answered.  
  
The time was not yet right. Until the memory charm was broken, until she remembered their first kiss, it did not feel proper to pursue her affections. When the time was right, everything would fall into place again. Whether it required months or years, he was willing to wait for her to remember. Of course, he thought with a smile, he might do well to try to jog her memory from time to time. And she would be around, as would he, for many years to come.  
  
After Minerva had gone, Dumbledore continued to gaze out at the stars and to think about his young protégé and the days that would come. The world, both that of the wizarding folk and that of the muggles, was growing peaceful again. There would be a long period of rebuilding on the continent and elsewhere, but the days of evil were over and the days of peace would last for sometime, he believed. There was much to look forward to and many reasons for happiness. Albus smiled.  
  
"Great days are ahead." he thought with a twinkle in his eyes. "And with Minerva here, I shall always have a friend with whom to share them."  
  
  
The End  
  
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A/N: Um, this is the point where I figure I should plug "Another Story". It's during the book era, but in addition to AD/MM it also contains a couple of other pairings (GW/RL and SS/HG), but it's a little less depressing (well, kind of anyway). Thanks for reading!  
  
  
Freelancer: Yep, it's over (from my perspective: finally). Let me know if you find out anything about Grindelwald (the town/village). Mmm... sugar (I'm usually hopped up on Skittles and soft drinks myself). Thank you for reviewing!  
  
MK: For a while at least (okay, a long while, but ... meh). Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Inca: Thank you!  
  
LinZE: Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Child-of-the-Dawn: Yes, that's probably true. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Whisper: If checks were done on who used memory charms, Gilderoy Lockhart would surely have been caught. *wink* And I agree: a kiss might very well have changed her mind. But in those days Albus just wasn't omniscent enough to realize that, I guess. Thank you for the review!  
  
Selene: Someday. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
  



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